


Fireproof

by blythechild



Series: Gift Fics 2016 [7]
Category: Criminal Minds, Supernatural
Genre: Betrayal, Demonic Possession, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Drinking & Talking, Drunk Texting, Federal Bureau of Investigation, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Misunderstandings, Resurrection, Romantic Friendship, Secrets, Separations, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 07:04:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8964718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blythechild/pseuds/blythechild
Summary: Hotch and Reid's friendship ends suddenly when Hotch abruptly quits the Bureau and disappears. But Reid won't let him get away with it. This is a work of fanfiction and as such I do not claim ownership over the characters herein. It was created as a personal amusement. This story contains violence and adult themes, and is suitable for mature readers only.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a holiday gift for the following people: GhostInTheBAU, Village_Mystic, and rivermoon70 who all asked for a Criminal Minds/Supernatural crossover involving Hotch and Reid. Other prompt aspects included "a deal with the devil" and "Reid comes face-to-face with the supernatural". Thanks for playing folks and I hope you enjoy it!
> 
>  **UPDATE:** GhostInTheBAU made a beautiful banner to go with this story. There's a link at the end of the final chapter. Please go and look at it  & give her some love :D  
>  
> 
> This story was also influenced by "Fireproof" by The National:
> 
>  
> 
> _You keep a lot of secrets_  
>  And I keep none  
> Wish I could go back  
> And keep some
> 
>  
> 
> _You're fireproof_  
>  Nothing breaks your heart  
> You're fireproof  
> It’s just the way you are [...]
> 
>  
> 
> _You’re fireproof_  
>  That’s what you always say  
> You’re fireproof  
> I wish I was that way

Hotch: Morning briefing tomorrow @8am instead of 9am. OK?  
Reid: Sure. Anything wrong?  
Hotch: No. AD just wants an update on open files & 9am is the only opening in his schedule. My turn to play the dancing monkey.  
Reid: ???  
Hotch: Sorry. That last statement was unprofessional. Please ignore it. I’m just tired.  
Reid: Done  
…  
Reid: Try warm milk  
Hotch: What?  
Reid: To encourage sleep. It’s not an old wives’ tale. Milk contains tryptophan which causes drowsiness and thus promotes the first stage of sleep. However, tryptophan can be sleep-inhibitive in too high a concentration, so combining it with a dose of high carbohydrates will cause insulin conversion and help the amino acid cross the blood-brain barrier.  
Reid: Also, it’s not sleep that’s restorative, but the release of serotonin that accompanies a healthy REM cycle. So, the tryptophan is just a tool really. And it’s comforting - familiarity shouldn’t be discounted. The old wives were right - just not for the reasons everyone thought.  
Reid: So, uh… warm milk.  
Hotch: Sounds like YOU need warm milk  
Reid: Maybe  
Reid: Sorry. I’m rambling.  
…  
Hotch: Fixing a glass now. Thanks for the advice. See you @8.

\----

Hotch: Did you turn in your incidental expense report for Q3 yet?  
Reid: Yes. On your desk under the paperweight Jack made for you.  
Hotch: It’s an ashtray  
Reid: You don’t smoke  
Reid: And what sort of arts & crafts school program encourages a child to make an ASHTRAY?  
Hotch: Alright, maybe it’s not an ashtray. It just really looks like one. Thx for turning in your report on time. Wish you’d rub off on Rossi a little.  
Reid: I’m surprised that you wouldn’t prefer that the other way around.  
Hotch: I can barely manage Dave. Two of him would be punitive. And then who would I turn to for weird facts about manatees?  
Reid: I’m trying to decide if you’re being serious…  
Hotch: I’m not. But I do appreciate an incongruous marine mammal moment during a tough case.  
Reid: Good to know :)  
…  
Reid: Are you actually still at the office? It’s past 9.  
Hotch: Bureaucracy never sleeps  
Reid: But you need to.  
Hotch: I’m leaving in 15. And then… warm milk.  
Reid: LOL

\----

Hotch: Lt. Danielson just informed me that the unsub is in custody.  
Reid: Yes. We’re on our way back to the PD now. Be there in 10.  
Hotch: He also told me that you went in to negotiate with him alone, that you were unarmed, & that you removed your vest before doing so.  
Reid: Yes. That’s all true.  
Reid: He was delusional and violently paranoid about law enforcement, and there were hostages involved. My decision was a logical, calculated risk.  
Hotch: You should’ve waited for hostage negotiation to arrive. Or me, or Rossi.  
Reid: There wasn’t time. He was decompensating rapidly.  
Reid: I’m the least threatening-looking member of this investigation. It gave me an edge, and he listened to me.  
Reid: I’m also a professional and ludicrously smart. I went in there with a plan, you know.  
…  
Reid: I’m getting written up, aren’t I?  
Hotch: Oh boy, are you getting written up. I’m breaking out the thesaurus for condemning adjectives.  
Reid: Fine. I accept that. But I stand by my actions.  
Hotch: That’s your prerogative and you can defend your decision in your case summary. Just get back here - we need to wrap this up.  
Reid: Understood.  
…  
…  
Hotch: As your boss I am strictly prohibited from telling you that your risky, badass move was impressive and strategically sound given the deteriorating situation. And I am absolutely forbidden from congratulating you on its success.  
Reid: Then I guess I’ll never know how pleased you are with me.  
Hotch: No, you won’t. But that’s why I’m paid the big bucks: to manage all of the crappy work compromises.  
Reid: It must be lonely at the top.  
Hotch: You have no idea.

\----

Hotch: Where are you? You’re 20 mins late for our status meeting.  
Reid: Sorry! I went on a coffee run to surprise everyone this morning, but there’s a BUSLOAD of tourists in line in front of me and apparently none of them speak any known terrestrial language.  
Reid: So many hand signals…  
Hotch: OK  
Reid: Okay?  
Hotch: Yes. That was nice of you. We can wait until you get back.  
Hotch: Would you be kind enough to get me the sugariest, most disgusting beverage on their menu please? But have them mark the cup as black coffee. I have a reputation to maintain.  
Reid: You got it, Boss ;)

\----

Reid: The gang’s meeting up with Morgan tonight at Delancy’s. Gonna join us?  
Hotch: Garcia told me. Wish I could. Please tell him I’m sorry I missed it.  
Reid: C’mon… you know none of us are getting out of there alive tonight until Garcia has forced us to embarrass ourselves at karaoke. Do you really want to miss that?  
Reid: I’ll sing a Journey song. Or that Rick Astley one you like so much for no apparent reason.  
Hotch: I do love watching you commit to Steve Perry vocals, but I can’t. I’m six weeks behind on closed case summaries for Cruz’s office.  
Reid: Did you ever imagine that you’d spend so much of your time pushing paper for the federal gov’t?  
Hotch: When I was young, I didn’t think I’d live past 45, so almost everything now comes as a surprise to me.  
…  
Reid: Really?  
Hotch: Sorry. I guess I’m tired again.  
Reid: Are you OK?  
Hotch: Yes. Promise.  
Hotch: Go have fun tonight. In fact, you should sing some Cyndi Lauper… I want to hear all about that tomorrow.  
Reid: You know where to find us if you change your mind. And it’ll be a late night.  
Hotch: Not too late. There’s a 9am briefing & I expect you all there. And NOT smelling like a brewery.  
Reid: Impossible request. Don’t hold your breath. Or maybe you’ll have to, because of all the ethyl alcohol we’ll be leeching out of our bodies…  
Hotch: I remember when you were innocent.  
Reid: Me too. But I’m much more fun now.

\----

Hotch: Are you up? I know it’s late…  
Reid: Of course I’m up. I’ve had insomnia since I was 7 years old. Need something?  
Hotch: Not really. Not for work. Just wondered if you were around to talk.  
Reid: Sure.  
Reid: Anything specific on your mind?  
Hotch: No  
…  
Hotch: Now I feel weird about this.  
Hotch: I’m intruding on your private time. I apologize. I’ll see you at the office tomorrow.  
Reid: I’m in the middle of writing a paper on self-identity and mental illness & I think I’ve painted myself into a corner about self-awareness vs. legal competency. Could I pick your brain about it a little?  
Reid: Also, ‘pick your brain’ is a horrifying phrase and I regret using it. I’m not a zombie, I swear.  
Hotch: So, the zombie emoji at the end of your text was…?  
Reid: Ironic. Of course.  
Hotch: Of course. That’s what I love about text messaging: the endless opportunities for irony :)  
Hotch: I’d be happy to help.  
Reid: Great! I’m gonna pull up the appropriate section and then call you, ok?  
Hotch: I’ll be waiting.

\----

Hotch: Sorry to bother you so late, but who was the lead author on that psych paper we were discussing in the diner last week?  
Reid: You need to stop apologizing about contacting me in the evenings. You know I don’t sleep much.  
Reid: Which paper? The one on dissociative disorders or the one about the Fregoli Delusion?  
Hotch: The one about CTE  
Reid: We talked about that one in the breakroom after we got back from Kalamazoo, not the diner. The lead author is Wykoffski.  
…  
Hotch: Why can’t I find it on the JAMA website?  
Reid: Not JAMA. American Psychiatric Association. I have it as a PDF - I’ll send it to you. Hold on…  
Hotch: Oh, thanks. Thought I was losing my mind.  
Reid: How appropriate ;)  
Hotch: Your sense of humor is morbid. And a bit silly.  
Reid: And yet you find me funny anyway.  
Hotch: I’m scowling. Can you hear me scowling at you?  
Reid: Not unless your scowl sounds like the cats in heat in the alley next to my apartment. I’m assuming that scowls are generally more dignified than that.  
Hotch: Considerably.  
Reid: Well, I removed my babelfish for the evening, so you’ll just have to tell me when you’re scowling instead.  
Hotch: I feel weirdly compromised that I understood that Hitchhiker’s reference.  
Reid: You should. That’s deeply nerdy of you :D I’m so proud.  
Hotch: Um, thanks?  
Reid: Welcome to the Dark Side, Hotch. I knew you had it in you.

\----

Reid: Hey, are you all right? Is Jack all right? Rossi said your absence was a family emergency…  
Reid: Hotch?  
…  
Hotch: Yes, Jack is with Jessica and he’s fine. I have to deal with some family business & it means I’ll be out of state for a few days. Connectivity is spotty.  
Reid: OK  
Reid: Thought you’d give me a head’s up about something like that. I was worried.  
…  
Hotch: Oh. I’m sorry, Reid. I never meant to worry you.  
Reid: It’s okay. I overreacted. Bad things happen to us too often. I guess it’s made me paranoid. You don’t owe me an itinerary.  
…  
Hotch: It won’t happen again  
Reid: What won’t happen again?  
Hotch: The worry. I’ll let you know if I have to suddenly disappear.  
Reid: Is that likely to happen? How many family emergencies could you possibly have?  
Hotch: Trouble finds my family, Reid. Always has. But I won’t let you worry about it.  
Reid: What if I could help?  
Hotch: That’s a kind offer, but, no. Some battles are mine alone to fight.  
Reid: No offense, Hotch, but that’s the tritest thing you’ve ever said to me.  
Hotch: LOL. Probably. Sorry. I’ll see you in a few days.  
…  
Hotch: And thank you for worrying.

\----

Hotch: Hey, Warm Milk, what are you up to?  
Reid: Warm Milk? It’s midnight. Where are you?  
Hotch: It’s midnight? Oh, shit…  
Reid: Are you drunk?  
Hotch: Little bit  
Reid: *eyeroll*  
Hotch: If yer an insomniac does it matter what time it is?  
Reid: I sleep occasionally. I’m not a vampire.  
Hotch: Not a zombie. Not a vampire. Scratching things off the list…  
Hotch: Do vampires not sleep? Is that a vampire thing? What do they do during the day in their coffins? Am I thinking about this too much?  
Reid: Probably. But I’ll admit that your drunk texting is more amusing than I imagined.  
Hotch: You imagine stuff about me?  
…  
Reid: Where are you? I’ll come pick you up and make sure you get home safely.  
Hotch: I’m not in need of rescue, thank you very much. Just a drinking partner.  
Reid: Oh. I don’t know about that…  
Hotch: S’okay. I’ll handle the drinking part. I’ll buy you a Shirley Temple.  
Reid: I’m not a 5 year old girl.  
Hotch: You sure?  
Reid: Baiting is beneath you, even in your current state.  
Hotch: I don’t think anything is beneath me, or has been, in longer than I care to think about.  
…  
Reid: This is getting weird.  
Hotch: Oh. Okay. Sorry.  
…  
Reid: Where are you?  
Hotch: Marvin’s Hideaway on Beech st. It’s a pit. Terrible name too. Just perfect.  
Reid: Order me a brandy. I’ll be there in 20.  
Hotch: Really? Thx Reid.  
Hotch: Just a warning - the brandy may be bourbon. Marvin doesn’t strike me as a sophisticate.  
Reid: Well, at least your vocabulary is still intact, even if the rest of you has taken a vacation.  
Hotch: Thought you’d appreciate that.  
…  
Hotch: Pterodactyl  
Hotch: Obfuscate  
Hotch: Myocardial infarction  
Hotch: Phlebotomist  
Hotch: Defenestrate  
…  
Reid: Very impressive, Captain Drunkpants. Now use them in a sentence. Just hailing a cab now…  
Hotch: In an unexpected twist, the pterodactyl defenestrated the obfuscating phlebotomist as he attempted to drain our prehistoric hero of his blood for strange and dark hybridization purposes. The coroner ruled cause of death as myocardial infarction but many suspected that it was actually a fatal dose of narrative incredulity.  
Reid: You know, sometimes I don’t know why we’re friends. And sometimes I REALLY do.  
Hotch: thx, buddy ;)  
Reid: If you’re this weird when you’re drunk I’m left wondering how weird you are on an everyday basis that you’re just hiding from all of us…  
Hotch: Play yer cards right & maybe you’ll find out

\----

Reid: Good Morning! How’s your head today?  
Hotch: Why does your exclamation point feel so emphatic in this?  
Hotch: My head is terrible. Thanks for asking.  
Reid: Oh good. Right on schedule. How much do you remember about last night?  
Hotch: Some, not all. There’s… something about homicidal dinosaurs I don’t understand…  
Reid: I would imagine there’s A LOT about homicidal dinosaurs that none of us understand.  
Hotch: Hysterical.  
Hotch: Did I do anything… embarrassing/inappropriate/irreversible last night?  
Reid: Yes, perhaps, and probably not.  
Hotch: Oh god, Reid, what did I do? And can I preface it by saying how sorry I am?  
Reid: It’s fine, Hotch. Much like drunken karaoke, you were both awkward and amusing. I learned a lot. It was a very educational evening :)  
Hotch: You’re being purposefully obscure. Why are you being purposefully obscure?  
Reid: I’m not being purposefully anything. I’ve just filed everything away in my brain to be used as convenient blackmail at some undetermined point in the future, that’s all.  
Reid: *angel emoji*  
Hotch: You’re being horrible today.  
Reid: I know :)  
…  
Hotch: Reid… thank you for coming out last night. The parts that I can remember, well… I had fun. I really needed that.  
Reid: You’re welcome.  
Reid: I had fun as well.  
…  
Reid: Perhaps we could do it again sometime.  
…  
Hotch: I would like that :)

\----

Hotch: Busy tonight? Want to get some dinner?  
Reid: What about Jack? Are you telling me that the first night in ages where you aren’t staying until after 9 to do reports, and you AREN’T going home to your son?  
Hotch: He’s got a sleepover with friends. Been planned for weeks. I can’t break that up. Besides, I still have paperwork to do - just none of it is urgent. If you have other plans I’ll take some home with me…  
Reid: Wow. Way to keep my ego in check: I rate slightly higher than a pile of non-essential gov’t busywork. You’re a real pal.  
Hotch: Now, now. It’s still two notches higher than Rossi.  
Reid: Well, since you put it that way, I’m in ;)  
Hotch: Excellent. Want to meet at that diner you like where they serve grease & arterial blockage with a side of more grease? Say, 1 hour?  
Reid: Sounds perfect. I’ll bring the bibs.  
Hotch: I’m not wearing a bib.  
Reid: Suit yourself. It’s just not a part of town where being shirtless is looked upon favorably, and you know what happened last time we were there. With the bacon fat and the cheese grease. And the French fry stains. And the mustard. And the pickle juice.  
Hotch: Alright, alright…  
Reid: Honestly, you dropped so many things I was concerned you were having a seizure.  
Hotch: You said you wouldn’t bring it up again.  
Reid: What can I say? I lied.  
Hotch: I think your awkwardness is contagious. I’m never like that.  
Reid: Tell yourself whatever you have to, Hotch. Maybe you just wanted to take your shirt off.  
…  
Hotch: See you in an hour.

\----

Hotch: Gonna be away for a few days starting tomorrow. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.  
Reid: Everything WILL be fine?  
Hotch: If everything WAS fine I wouldn’t have to leave in the first place.  
…  
Hotch: Sorry. That reads like I’m angry. I’m not angry.  
Reid: I think you are.  
Hotch: Not at you.  
Reid: Sort of comforting, I guess.  
Hotch: Listen, Reid… this is personal. Really personal. And also a goddamned mess. You don’t want any part of it, trust me.  
Reid: You don’t have any idea what I want, Hotch.  
…  
Hotch: Does it help to say that I don’t want to involve you in this because I see our friendship as an oasis from all of that? I just want to keep it… unmarred. It’s not because I don’t trust you.  
…  
Reid: ok  
Hotch: Reid…  
Reid: Okay. I’ll accept that. For now. But I don’t like it.  
Hotch: I know, & thank you.  
Reid: And your veil of secrecy obviously does nothing to alleviate my worry, preemptive texts notwithstanding.  
Hotch: Oooooh, talk wordy to me…  
Reid: >:( You’re deflecting.  
Hotch: I am. I don’t want to leave with you angry at me.  
Reid: That’s sorta a tall order right now.  
…  
Hotch: You’re a good friend, Spencer. My life is immeasurably richer for having you in it.  
Reid: Yeah, yeah, yeah… go away. And be safe. And don’t do anything stupid. And come back again quickly.  
Hotch: That’s a deal, buddy :)

\----

Hotch: @Marvin’s again. Join me?  
Reid: You’re back? When did you get back?  
Hotch: Late this afternoon. Came straight here.  
Reid: That doesn’t sound good. Are you ok?  
Hotch: I just… I need a friend.  
Hotch: And I’m not drunk. I’ve been nursing the same beer for over an hour now.  
Reid: Any chance you’ll tell me what happened on your trip? Or why you’re in such a state?  
Hotch: No to the first part, but the second is easy: I’m alone.  
Reid: You’re not alone, Hotch. You have Jack and the team…  
Hotch: I could be alone in a roomful of people, Reid. I’m really good at it.  
Hotch: I feel less alone when you’re around tho…  
…  
Reid: I’m on my way.

\----

Hotch: What’s your shoe size?  
Reid: Ummm, I beg your pardon?  
Hotch: Shoe size?  
…  
Reid: You are buying shoes for me? That’s strange bordering on creepy.  
Hotch: Hmmm. So I guess you don’t want a pair of limited edition Doctor Who Converse high tops to wear to crime scenes and freak out all the LEOs, huh?  
Reid: Size 12. 12!!!  
Hotch: LOL. Thought so.

\----

Hotch: Rossi & I came up empty at the suspect’s house. That means if he’s still in the city he’ll be at your location. Stay on your toes.  
Reid: Copy that.  
Hotch: And if you take off your vest again I swear I’ll superglue you into it the next time, I don’t care how smelly you get.  
Reid: That’s weirdly touching. Or maybe just weird.  
Hotch: I do what I can.  
Reid: We’re 3 mins out.  
Hotch: Text me the moment it’s over.  
Reid: Will do, buddy ;) And still weird.

\----

Hotch: What group did assassin Gavrilo Princip belong to? Was it The Black Hand? My WW1 knowledge is hazy.  
Reid: That’s the standard answer but he was actually rejected by them. He was associated with Mlada Bosna but was trained by the Chetnik Organization. It’s really a fascinating examination of the lone gunman archetype  
Hotch: Playing Trivial Pursuit. Need a simple answer. Hence the word ‘trivial’.  
Reid: The Trivial Pursuit answer is The Black Hand even though it’s incorrect.  
…  
Hotch: When did Magellan set out to circumnavigate the globe?  
Reid: 1519. Did you know that he actually wasn’t the first to do that? He died 1000 miles short of his goal even though history gave him the honor. Some believe that his slave was the first to do it.  
Reid: Are you using me to cheat at Trivial Pursuit?  
Hotch: Yes. Obviously.  
Reid: Whom are you playing against?  
Hotch: Jack  
Reid: YOU’RE USING ME TO CHEAT AGAINST YOUR 9 YEAR OLD SON? YOU ARE TERRIBLE. DON’T TEXT ME AGAIN UNTIL YOU GROW UP.  
Hotch: Wow. That text was so. loud.  
Hotch: And how can I grow up when we’re playing the children’s version of Trivial Pursuit?  
Reid: You’re playing children’s TP and you can’t win on your own? That’s just sad. I take it back: you aren’t terrible, you’re just pathetic.  
Hotch: C’mon. I’m old & Jack’s brain is young & squishy…  
Reid: I’m texting Jack right now. Gonna offer to help his young, squishy brain instead :P Prepare to lose to a 9 yr old with powerful friends.  
Hotch: Traitor.

\----

Hotch: I have to go away again. Probably a week at most. Will keep you posted.  
Reid: This is the 3rd time in 14 months, Hotch. What’s going on?  
Hotch: I told you this is my battle.  
Reid: I know about secrets. I know about hiding things from the people who care about you. It never ends well.  
Hotch: I’m sorry, I can’t talk about it.  
Reid: I won’t judge you. Elle, Gideon, Emily, Maeve… I’ve learned this lesson well.  
…  
Reid: Let me help  
…  
Hotch: It’s not what you think  
Reid: Then tell me what it really is, because I have a tremendous imagination and it’s running wild right now.  
Hotch: No  
Hotch: It’s for your own protection.  
Reid: Why is everyone always falling over themselves to protect me? Why doesn’t anyone think I can PROTECT THEM??  
Reid: I thought we were friends, Hotch. Finally. Again.  
Hotch: We are friends. We really are.  
Reid: You keep a lot of secrets for a friend. And I try to keep none.  
Hotch: Reid, please…  
Hotch: Spencer…  
Hotch: Listen, I can’t get into this now but I’m telling you that I need you to be there for me even if you don’t know what I’m doing. It’s much more important than you can guess. Please. If you want to help me, this is how to do it.  
…  
Reid: That’s convenient  
Hotch: But also true.  
Reid: Will you ever tell me what’s going on?  
Hotch: Maybe. Someday. I promised to never let you worry, and telling you could cause a lot of concern…  
Reid: Too late. That’s already happened.  
Hotch: I’ve gotta go but just know that, if I could tell anyone, it would be you. No one else. That’s how shitty this information is. I’d only entrust it to someone who I know has my back no matter what.  
Reid: Jesus, Aaron…  
Hotch: Yeah, I know.  
…  
Reid: Fine, but be safe.  
Hotch: I promise you I will.

\----

Hotch: Hey. Are you around?  
Reid: Yes. Are you back?  
Hotch: Not yet. A few more days I think.  
Reid: Oh. What did you need?  
Hotch: Nothing. I just wanted to check in, see how you were…  
Reid: Uh, well, we caught a local case with some interesting profile anomalies  
Hotch: I’m not talking about work, Spencer. I meant how are YOU doing?  
…  
Reid: Honestly  
Reid: I have this friend who’s keeping secrets from me and it’s making me sad  
…  
Hotch: I told you why  
Reid: I know, and I’m telling you that it’s hard to buy into how much you say I mean to you and still put up with this.  
Reid: Every time you come back you’re a mess. How many more times do you expect me to scrape you off a bar stool and not ask any questions about it? It doesn’t feel like friendship.  
Hotch: What does it feel like?  
Reid: Enabling. I feel like a crutch to you.  
Reid: That hurts so much, Aaron. I can’t even…  
Hotch: You’re not a crutch, Spencer, I swear to you.  
Reid: What is it? Alcoholism? Drugs? An affair? Blackmail? Gambling? Jesus, Aaron, don’t you know that I’m constitutionally incapable of passing judgment on any of your sins? Not with my personal history…  
Hotch: Believe it or not, it’s none of those things  
Reid: Then WHAT IS IT? Please. I want to help you. I want to help so much it’s painful.  
…  
Hotch: Christ, Spencer, you break my heart  
Reid: It’s like you’re TRYING to make me give up. So that I’ll walk away and your fear of being alone will fulfill itself. Why are you doing that?  
…  
Hotch: I don’t know  
…  
Reid: Have you ever considered that maybe I have a fear of being alone too? And that this pattern of behavior is kicking at it really hard?  
Hotch: I… no, I didn’t  
Reid: Well, maybe you should spend some time on that.  
Hotch: Reid… I’m sorry.  
Reid: Text me when you get back.  
Hotch: Spencer?  
…  
Hotch: Spence?  
…  
…

\----

Hotch: I’m back.  
Reid: Welcome home.  
Hotch: Can we meet up? We need to talk.  
…  
Reid: Ominous proposition  
Hotch: Please  
…  
Reid: Not at Marvin’s.  
Hotch: Okay. Delancy’s? We could get some dinner there.  
Reid: Fine. 1 hour?  
Hotch: Yes.  
Hotch: I thought a lot about what you said.  
Reid: Good.  
Hotch: And I really missed you.  
…  
Reid: I missed you too. See you in an hour.

\----

Reid: Are you awake yet?  
Hotch: Barely. What’s up?  
Reid: We need to discuss last night.  
…  
Hotch: There’s nothing to discuss.  
Reid: Oh yes, there is. This isn’t something that you can conveniently dismiss, Hotch. I won’t let you this time.  
Hotch: I’m not dismissing it. I was there - I remember what happened. I’m just not discussing it.  
Reid: I fail to see the distinction.  
Hotch: We’re friends, Reid.  
Reid: Even more reason to clear the air about it then.  
…  
Reid: Hotch  
Reid: Aaron  
…  
Hotch: It was just a kiss. I told you I was sorry.  
Reid: And I told you that was unnecessary. I didn’t mind.  
Reid: I kissed you back.  
…  
Reid: Aaron, I didn’t mind.  
Hotch: Well, I do.  
Reid: What does that mean?  
Hotch: It means it was a mistake and it won’t happen again.  
…  
Reid: Because you don’t want it to, or because you’re scared about what it could mean?  
Hotch: I was drunk. We both were.  
Reid: So?  
Hotch: So, it’s just something stupid that I did without thinking. Because I don’t think a lot when I’m drinking - that’s the allure of drinking. It was meaningless. It could’ve been anyone last night.  
Hotch: Our emotions were running high… trying to get everything back on track. I’m sorry I got you caught up in it. I wish it were with someone else so that we didn’t have to do… this now. I don’t want it to turn into another thing we have to work through.  
…  
Reid: I see.  
Hotch: I don’t want to lose my friend, Reid. Please forgive me. I want to stop screwing up with you.  
Hotch: This friendship is so important to me.  
…  
Reid: Of course. I understand.  
Hotch: Do you?  
Reid: Consider the subject dropped. We’ll be fine.  
…  
Hotch: Are you sure?  
Reid: Do you want it written in blood or something?  
Hotch: No.  
Hotch: Okay, we’ll be fine.

\----

Reid: Rossi said the hospital released you - no side effects from Scratch’s gas attack.  
Hotch: Yes  
Reid: Want me to come over?  
Hotch: No. Thank you.  
Reid: I could pick up some take-out on the way. Watch Animal Planet. Or Game of Thrones. I bet you’re not caught up yet, are you?  
Hotch: Not tonight  
Reid: I just want to make sure you’re okay. I’ve been worried.  
Hotch: I’m fine. Take my word for it.  
Reid: Well, that’s kinda a sticky proposition for us, isn’t it? ;)  
Hotch: Reid, I’m fine. Please… not tonight.  
Reid: Okay. Sorry.  
Hotch: Don’t apologize. See you in the office on Monday.

\----

Hotch: Where’s your psych eval for the Dawkins case?  
Reid: Just finishing it up. Will email it to you in 10.  
Hotch: OK. Thx.  
Reid: Want to grab some dinner? Lewis said a new rib joint just opened on 2nd Ave.  
Hotch: Some other time.  
Reid: Okay, when?  
Hotch: Let me think about it & get back to you.  
…  
Reid: Fine.

\----

Reid: You cut out on dinner with Emily kinda early. Everything all right?  
Hotch: Yes. Just had some work to finish for tomorrow.  
Reid: You’ve been doing that a lot.  
Hotch: Finishing work?  
Reid: Cutting out on everyone. We’re all concerned, not just me.  
Hotch: Nothing to be concerned about.  
Reid: Really? Because it’s starting to feel like a junior high school dance between the two of us, and you’re not much better with everyone else. You barely speak in complete sentences anymore.  
Hotch: Why won’t you ever take NO for an answer? My job has gotten exponentially more taxing since Morgan left & the Mr. Scratch case, so perhaps it’s not entirely unexpected that I’m unavailable for team pep rallies & nerd marathons on the Syfy network.  
…  
Reid: You know what? Sorry I asked. Sorry I’ve done everything I can to make YOU feel comfortable in the stupid rules you’ve set up for yourself and that it comes off as desperate pestering to you. You said our friendship was important. You begged me to go back to the way things were. I didn’t realize I was going to be the only one doing that.  
Reid: Enjoy your solitude, Hotch. You deserve it.  
Hotch: Reid, c’mon  
…  
Hotch: I’m sorry, alright? Things really have gotten a lot harder in the last few months. The job is just a part of it.  
Hotch: I didn’t mean to snap at you.  
…  
Hotch: Reid?  
…  
…  
Hotch: I always knew you’d give up on me eventually

\----

Hotch: I’ve been reassigned to a temporary task force by the AD. Don’t know how long. Maybe a few weeks? But I’ll be available by phone if you need me.  
Reid: Thanks for the update.  
Hotch: I’ll miss you guys. This new team will be like herding cats.  
Hotch: Don’t hesitate to call, okay? I mean it.  
…  
…

\----

Hotch: Reid, I’m leaving.  
Reid: For the task force? How long this time?  
Hotch: No. I mean I’ve resigned from the Bureau.  
…  
Reid: What?  
Reid: What are you talking about?  
Reid: WHY?  
Hotch: Rossi will explain it all to the team. I don’t have much time, and I won’t be at this number for much longer.  
Reid: WHAT R U TALKING ABOUT?  
Hotch: Protective custody. I told you: trouble always finds me.  
Reid: What’s happened?!  
Reid: Where are you??  
Reid: Whatever it is, Hotch, we can protect you. You don’t need the Marshal Service to sort this out. This is what we do!  
Hotch: Not this time.  
Reid: Do not trot out your clichéd isolationism right now. You save us from nothing by leaving. We need you. Do you hear me? WE NEED YOU.  
Hotch: This isn’t how I wanted to say goodbye, Reid. Know that.  
Hotch: Of all the things I’m giving up by doing this, never seeing you again is the worst of it by far. You have been a great friend to me, even if I haven’t returned the consideration.  
Reid: Never see me again?!? Hotch, don’t do this. Let us help, please!  
Reid: Aaron, please… don’t go.  
…  
Hotch: Help the others get through this. I can’t contact them. I took enough of a risk reaching out to you.  
Reid: AARON, PLEASE DON’T DO THIS.  
Hotch: I couldn’t live with the thought of you always wondering why. This is about my choices, Spencer, and right now I wish I’d made some different ones. I’ve missed you so much these last few months. I’m sorry - I wasted our time together. You deserve more of an explanation, but I can’t give you that.  
Hotch: Stay safe.  
Reid: Aaron, tell me where you are!  
…  
Reid: Tell me or I’ll have Garcia track you.  
Reid: You’re not shaking me off with some cryptic texts  
Reid: We’re supposed to be friends! How can you do this?  
Reid: Why would you leave me here alone?  
…  
Reid: Aaron?  
…  
…  
Reid: I’m not giving up on you


	2. The End

Reid listened as Rossi talked. But as soon as he finished and everyone began making their own shocked whispers, Reid heard his voice carry harshly and absolutely over them all.

“He wouldn’t do that,” he growled, though it was clear that’s exactly what Hotch had done.

The room went silent and the team blinked at him, not knowing how to react when he was indiscriminately hostile, and then he turned on his heel and left the conference room. He heard Rossi mumble _‘let him go’_ to whoever foolishly tried to follow him, and he was secretly glad of it. As well as being volcanically angry. His anger still hadn’t cooled twenty minutes later when he handed Prentiss his emergency leave of absence notice. They were in Hotch’s office - soon to be _her_ office.

Prentiss sighed as she took the form from him. “Reid-”

“Don’t,” he bit out.

“Okay. Listen… I know you’re not good with change, and there’s been a lot of change lately.”

“Emily…” he warned.

“Did you ever consider that this might actually be a good thing for Hotch?”

“Protective custody? Relocation and new identities? Leaving everyone he knows behind? How is that _a good thing_?” Reid stepped towards her savagely but she stood her ground. She knew him well. “There’s something not right about this and you know it. He’d give up over Peter Lewis?! No… no way I’m buying that. Not after Foyet, or the Replicator, or any of the others. This excuse is contrived, and if it were happening to any of us he’d be the first person to question it.”

“Maybe it is contrived, Reid,” she countered softly. “Maybe _he_ contrived it. Maybe he needed an excuse to break free. You know he’d never really leave the job if he stayed in D.C. and in contact with all of us. The work has a magnetic field, you know that.”

Reid stood still and blinked at her.

“The job hasn’t been kind to him - it took a lot. Perhaps this was his way of getting out while there was still enough of him left to salvage. And he gets a few years with Jack as well.”

Reid choked down a wet-sounding breath, his world spinning a little. It was true that Hotch hadn’t been doing very well - he’d witnessed it first hand. Was his big secret a garden variety breakdown of some kind? Had Reid unknowingly piled onto the problem? He shook his head once to clear it of doubts; it had been real - it _felt real_.

“He wouldn’t just leave that way. He wouldn’t go without saying goodbye. It’s…”

“Heartless?” Emily said with a sad smile. And then he remembered that she’d done the same thing. “It can appear that way, yes. But Hotch has the softest heart I’ve ever seen. He hides it well under all the scowling and tailored suits an’ stuff…”

She stepped forward and wrapped a hand around Reid’s arm, squeezing slightly to draw his eyes to her. “That soft heart of his is probably bleeding right now. I know mine did when I left.”

“Emily…” he swallowed hard, his voice sounding too unsteady. “I-I can’t shake the feeling that this is something else. Something worse than Scratch. And he’s just stoic enough to try to fix it on his own… I’ve gotta _do something_ , Em.”

Prentiss made a suspiciously Garcia-like noise and then pulled him in for a hug. He sagged against her, partially because he was that unsteady, but also because Prentiss was secretly an excellent hugger and he’d missed that.

“Okay,” she mumbled into his shoulder before pulling back and hiding her expression under her practiced mask. “I’m not the boss yet, but if I were I’d be obligated to tell you that you are prohibited from interfering in another agency’s case. What you do on your leave is your business so long as you do not use any Bureau resources. This begins the moment you leave the building. Should you happen to stroll by Garcia’s lair before that, well…”

Prentiss rolled her eyes, and Reid clasped her close again. She huffed in surprise.

“Thank you, Emily,” he whispered quietly.

“I couldn’t change your mind if I wanted to. I know you better than that,” she murmured and stroked his back. “Just… two things.”

He pulled away and waited.

“One,” she raised a finger. “ _If_ he’s in trouble, you reach out to me immediately, because we’re gonna drop everything and go to him. All of us. I want no arguments about this - it’s non-negotiable. Clear?”

He nodded, and then she held up a second finger and gave him a tired, soft stare.

“Two. When you find him, tell him everything, Spencer. What have you got to lose at this point?”

“W-what are you talking about?”

One side of her mouth lifted in a smirk. “Don’t try and snow a profiler, kid. You and Hotch text more often than teenaged girls.” She took a step forward and ducked to meet his eyes when he tried to look away. “Tell. Him. He’s just self-deprecating enough to think it’s one-sided.”

One-sided? Hotch was the one who said it was meaningless, that it could’ve happened with anyone. Hotch was the one who said he regretted it… Reid just stared at her, feeling his cheeks heat. He didn’t know what to say about any of that.

“Maybe he’s not the only one with that problem,” she said after giving him a critical stare. “Go on, get outta here. And for the love of God, don’t get shot or stabbed or anything, okay? I don’t know how to fill out any of those forms yet.”

“Okay. Boss.” His mouth curled into a smirk and it helped fight off the embarrassment of the blush staining his cheeks. Prentiss tried to swat him but he ducked it easily and hopped out of the office. He heard her muffled laughter float after him as he made a beeline for Garcia’s office.

“Smartass… better not get shot…” 

\----

The best thing about working with Garcia was that for all of her fluffy pens, bright colors, homemade cupcakes, and endless kitten video links, she’d never really lost her taste for illegal activity. And she was loyal to a fault. She watched Reid in silence as he rapidly explained his terrible plan and tried to tie his long fingers into a Cat’s Cradle at the same time. When he’d finished, and expected that he’d have to defend his decision as soon as she stopped blinking at him, she just swiveled her chair to face her wall of screens with determination.

“I’m in,” she murmured and then began to type so fast her fingers blurred.

“Really?” Reid whispered. “We’re probably gonna have to do some… questionable things…”

“I said I’m in.” She turned back to face him with a seriousness that caught him completely off guard. “Hotch kept me sane during the Dark Net case when I was living in this office. He spent time with me, reassured me, he did everything short of letting me braid his hair and I _know_ he didn’t have that kind of free time to spare. He’s my captain and I’d follow him to hell and back, Reid. I didn’t buy what Rossi was selling either – I’m glad I’m not the only one.”

She reached out and squeezed his tangled fingers, her chunky rings clacking as she did so. And then she turned back to her computers.

“But this won’t be easy, and I’ll have to do it on the DL so it could take a while before I find something useful. We’ll start with his phone…”

Reid’s stomach twisted as he thought about his last text conversation with Hotch. “He won’t be using it anymore,” he gulped.

“Probably, but _this girl_ doesn’t leave any stone unturned. And if for some reason it’s still active, that means I might not have to hack the Marshal Service.”

“Hack the Marshal Ser- …oh god…”

“Yeah, maybe you should go for this next bit.” She waved her jeweled hands at him. “The less you know about what I’m doing the better. I’ll message you when I have something.”

“Garcia, I… I,” he stuttered uselessly, his vision blurring a little. She popped up from her chair and gave him a quick, flower-scented hug.

“I know, Junior G-Man, I know. Me too. We’re gonna find him, don’t worry.”

But he did, he was. He was immersed in a state of active uncertainty. Garcia released him and shoved him at her office door.

“Go on. Let me work. Keep your phone handy.”

\----

Garcia didn’t get back to him for two days and during that excruciating span of useless inertia, Reid didn’t sleep or eat and ended up drinking enough coffee to make his eyeballs vibrate. He stalked around his apartment, imagining various scenarios Hotch might be in, each more horrifying than the last, and he jumped every time his phone buzzed with a message, tripping over books, furniture, and his prepped go bag to see who it was.

J.J.: Talk to me, Spence. Let me know you’re okay.

Rossi: Don’t do anything stupid, kid. Or at least invite me along.

Morgan: PG just told me – Hotch LEFT?!? + UR on leave?? R U OK, bro? Come over 2 tha house 2 talk. Any time. Me + Hank will b waiting.

Each time, it wasn’t Garcia, and it was never, ever _him_. But that didn’t stop Reid from anthropomorphizing his cellphone, willing it to reach out and leave warm reassurance as it brushed its target.

Reid: I’m coming for you

 _That was stupid_ , he told himself later. Ditching the phone would’ve been the first thing Hotch had done. 

 

Around hour forty-six he’d dozed off, limbs akimbo hanging off his couch oddly, his neck unnaturally canted, and, of course, drooling. His phone beeped and vibrated simultaneously across his coffee table, and he pulled himself from the restless haze of half-consciousness so violently that he fumbled and slid to the floor with a terrible crack of his knees. He hissed, reaching for the phone and thought about swearing, but all of that evaporated when he read the message.

Garcia: I’ve got a location. Call me ASAP.

\----

Reid shifted his position in the driver’s seat and frowned when his shirt reminded him how it was clinging wetly to his back and chest. He sighed and leaned his head into his hand braced on the car door, trying desperately not to think about how uncomfortable his pants were making him. He just wasn’t a shorts kinda guy, but a few more hours like this and he’d consider tearing them off, fishing out the rest from his bag, and setting them on fire out of pure hatred. But that thought just made him swelter even more… The Marshal Service had their petty tells, most notably to hide people in places the rest of humanity actively avoided. This time, they’d selected the armpit of America to disguise the Hotchner family.

Reid had been sitting on the drab, split suburban ranch house for five days. He’d seen three different Federal Marshals (not being very inconspicuous in their identical SUVs, sunglasses, and unseasonable jackets to hide the bulge of their concealed weapons). He’d also seen Jessica and her father, looking harried and distant, respectively. And to his great relief he’d seen Jack, safe but wearing a haunted look that punched Reid in the gut with how much it resembled his father’s.

But he hadn’t seen Hotch – not once. And given the argument he’d half witnessed between Jessica and a Marshal before someone pulled the living room curtain, he wasn’t the only one frustrated by Hotch’s absence. He shifted again and muttered angrily at his pants; even with all the windows open and parked under a tree it was broiling. He could practically hear the grass shriveling into burnt clumps on the lawns around him. He’d been basically living in this car since he’d left D.C. and he felt he was turning a little feral as a result. No one to talk to, no reprieve from the waiting for someone who might never come, no end in sight… He took a deep, humid breath and rubbed his eyes viciously behind his sunglasses. He was losing it a little. This wasn’t working; he needed to try something else.

He rifled through the take-out containers and abandoned clothes on the passenger seat until he found his phone. He tapped the screen and came face to face with his own desperation.

_**Sent Messages:** _

11/25/2016 4:27pm  
Reid: I know where you are. I’ll be there soon. Don’t be mad.

11/27/2016 9:26pm  
Reid: I’m here. Come find me. I’m hard to miss.

11/28/2016 4:09am  
Reid: I’m not leaving so if you’re getting these come outside.

11/28/2016 10:45pm  
Reid: Still here

11/29/2016 2:49pm  
Reid: If you’re around, you’re just being childish now…

12/01/2016 11:14am  
Reid: Seriously. PG tells me that your phone keeps going live and then dormant. What are you doing?

12/02/2016 5:53am  
Reid: A, where are you?  
Reid: I won’t give up. I can be just as stubborn as you.

 

Reid grimaced at the misery onscreen. Something whispered that he was pathetic, clinging anxiously to a man who didn’t want his help and never had. Nothing in those messages would convince Hotch that Reid was more capable or less terrified than he seemed. That was assuming that Hotch was reading them at all. Reid shook his head and opened a new message window. He had to keep trying, if only to get an answer that would let him move on. That’s what he chose to believe and told the whispering voice to _shut the hell up_.

Reid: It’s been 5 days. I don’t think he was ever here. What do we try next?

The sun beat down through the leaves like it was trying to find him and immolate him for caring too much. _Not your problem_ , the pavement hissed… _Wasted effort_ , the cicadas sang…

Garcia: Still got that friend at the NSA?  
Reid: Yeah, why?

His stomach twisted as he waited for her response.

Garcia: Got an idea but you’re not going to like it.

\----

The Pacific Northwest was cold and he hadn’t packed for it. He’d spent three days shivering in his crappy rental car that appeared to have heaters just for show rather than functionality, and then broke down and bought a new wardrobe which could only be described as ‘rugged’ at an outdoor goods store. He felt alien in the heavy denim, flannel, and oiled canvas assortment, but there was no doubt that he was a hell of a lot warmer. People looked at him differently. His boots made his tread heavier, his coat made him seem solider, his hair now appeared wild – a reflection of some roughhewn spirit everyone assumed he had – instead of the carelessness it had always been. Part of him liked it – that he blended in – but each day when he looked at the scraggy, bearded person in the mirror, he always took a double-take.

Philip at the NSA was not happy with Reid. Reid reminded himself that he’d never _seen_ Philip happy ever since he got clean, and that sudden, slightly blackmail-ish requests from other people in your NA group probably didn’t do much to improve a persecuted mood. Reid wasn’t sorry, but still, he’d most likely burned a bridge there. Between Garcia hacking the lead Marshal’s emails, and Philip’s less-than-constitutional GPS tracking and surveillance of several Marshals’ phones, Reid had been led through Kansas, Colorado, Idaho, Oregon, and finally Washington. The Marshals were pissed: Hotch had agreed to the custody arrangement and then slipped his handlers within twenty-four hours of being relocated. It was just further proof to Reid that hiding from Scratch wasn’t his primary concern. And now the lead agent on Hotch’s detail had sent the bloodhounds after him; the Marshal Service had an impressive track record and it seemed as if they’d taken Hotch’s absence personally. The emails Garcia had unearthed became increasingly cryptic, and made passing references to some sort of militia-like cult, and then they got classified in a way that spooked even Penelope.

“I’m not cracking those messages,” she whispered across the phone to him. “I’m very good, but those things are so radioactive you can see the glow from space. If I go near them, they’ll bot me so fast that I won’t have a chance to pack before the black helicopters descend.”

So that’s where Philip came in, since it was usually the NSA who sent the black helicopters in the first place.

“The guy you’re hunting must be into some bad shit, Spencer,” Philip grumbled into the phone over the clacking sounds of his keyboard. “Forget the Marshal Service – that’s small fry. If their emails got classified? That’s national security threat-time. Terrorism maybe. You’re not equipped for this – leave this guy and whatever brief existence he has remaining to him alone.”

Reid took a beat. How had he become embroiled in this? Was it even worth it? What had Hotch _done_?

“I can’t do that, Philip.”

Philip snorted derisively. “Well, I warned ya. Guess I won’t have to worry about you or this b.s. for much longer. You know, you’re pretty stupid for a smart guy, Spencer.”

Maybe he was stupid. And desperate. And deluded. He’d never been very successful with people; maybe this was just another example of him utterly failing to get the point. He sat in his sub-par rental car and watched the drizzle warp his view of the ancient house he was surveilling. Six weeks, two days, and fourteen hours spent on the road now. He was starting to think of his desk at Quantico, the jet, his cozy apartment as things he’d once dreamed but then awoken to _this_ instead. He was missing his Mom, his friends, the work… he was just absent from _life_. His world had narrowed to the road in front of him, the next town, the next flimsy scrap of a clue…

His phone vibrated in his coat pocket and he pulled it out numbly, no longer hoping for a message that would never arrive. The screen lit up with his past messages:

_**Sent Messages:** _

12/17/2016 1:25pm  
Reid: Idaho is boring. If I never eat another potato it’ll be too soon.

12/21/2016 9:47pm  
Reid: Winter Solstice – longest night of the year in the Northern Hemisphere. The light begins to come back tomorrow…

12/24/2016 11:47pm  
Reid: Wherever you are, Merry Christmas

12/28/2016 11:04pm  
Reid: Stopped a bar fight tonight w/knowledge of medieval weaponry. Pretty badass.

12/31/2016 11:57pm  
Reid: i hate you. so much.  
Reid: fuck i’m drunk. fuck

01/05/2017 8:08am  
Reid: 5 weeks, 12 hours. Still searching.

01/06/2017 11:12am  
Reid: Saw a guy at a Chevron station who looked so much like Gideon that I had to stop myself from walking over and hugging him. I lost him for years before I ACTUALLY lost him, and it still hurts that strongly. I can’t help wondering if it’ll be the same way with you.

01/08/2017 4:15pm  
Reid: I miss you

01/09/2017 3:45am  
Reid: Keep going over it in my head. Late night conversations & a few nights out was all there was to it. And one damned kiss. I never really knew you & now I can’t let go. Pitiable.  
Reid: I didn’t know that I was this lonely.

01/10/2017 12:07pm  
Reid: J.J. just called. Told me Henry cries if she talks about me. How did I become this person?

 

Reid swiped the screen to open the received message. A part of him was dimly aware that his desperation didn’t bother him as much as it used to.

Garcia: How’s it going?  
Reid: The same: new town, new car, new crappy lead that’s quickly going nowhere.  
Reid: And I’m freezing my butt off.  
Garcia: She’s making me ask so… Emily wants to know when you plan on coming back  
Reid: Don’t know. When I run out of places to look, I guess.  
…  
Garcia: Listen, you know I’m with you 100% with this. But maybe we have to wait for him to surface. It’s no use hunting in the wrong place. We haven’t had a good lead in weeks.  
Reid: I’m not giving up  
Garcia: I’m not suggesting you do. Let’s just… regroup a bit. Come back home – recharge. I’ve got dozens of alerts active – if he makes a move that ANY agency can track, we’ll know about it…  
Reid: No  
Garcia: You must be exhausted, and with the info we’ve got we could go to the team with this – it’s not about violating protective custody when he’s not in it. Maybe we could  
Reid: I said no. Please don’t ask again.  
Garcia: Please, sweety. I’m so worried about you out there.

A deep, rhythmic growling pulled his eyes up from his phone, and then he sat up as a car made for performance and not off-roading labored through the muddy, half-frozen dirt track leading from the main road to the broken-down farmhouse before him. His own rental car had barely negotiated the washed-out, overgrown track, and it had all-wheel drive. How the classic muscle car made it was an engineering mystery to him. Safely camouflaged by the untended growth around the house, Reid leaned forward and squinted at the first signs of life this last ditch lead had produced. In his hand, his phone beeped a few more times, but he was riveted to the faces of the two men who got out and looked around as if they expected to be attacked even out in the middle of nowhere. Reid’s fingers texted blindly.

Reid: Hld on sumthg now

The driver looked over the roof of the car at his partner, eyes pinched and suspicious as his gaze swept the surrounding brush over and over. He spoke quickly and then pulled out his phone, turning to offer a profile of himself as he faced the back of the muddy car. Reid got an idea. He fumbled with his phone and snapped a few pictures praying that they were in focus. The driver’s partner nodded, his hair falling into his face and forcing him to shake it out again. He seemed enormous - tall, rangy in a way that said he knew how to handle himself in a fight - and when he swung the back door open and _lifted a body_ over his shoulder, it didn’t seem to faze him at all. Reid’s stomach tightened and his hand automatically tried to move to the glove compartment where his off-duty piece lurked. The body was hooded and bound, limp but not in a way that suggested a corpse. Reid supposed that was something. The big guy swung around and lurched towards the farmhouse, and Reid snapped as many photos as he could. The other serious fellow ended his call, and headed to the trunk, rummaging in there between furtive glances around him, and then emerged with a duffle bag. The butt of a shotgun was clearly visible from it. He followed his partner into the abandoned house.

Reid swallowed down his dry mouth and quickly flipped through the photos he’d taken. This wasn’t what he’d expected at all, but stumbling onto a kidnapping wasn’t something he was prepared to walk away from. He selected the two clearest shots he had and sent them to Garcia.

Reid: Need ids on these 2 ASAP

It seemed that he sat frozen in his seat for hours waiting on Garcia. Light flickered in the lower windows of the sagging, grey house but that was the only life or evidence it offered. No gunshots or screams for help or mercy - no sounds at all in fact except for the relentless January drizzle pinging the car and the wind whistling through the trees malevolently clawing at the edges of the house.

Finally, his phone beeped and he yelped as it did so. The sky felt as if it were darkening unnaturally and pressing down around him. The unease in this place suddenly became a physical thing to him. His eyes flicked to the new message.

Garcia: GET OUT OF THERE NOW!

He blinked and then looked around him as if she could see something from her office across the country that he could not.

Reid: What?  
Garcia: THEY ARE TERRORISTS. WANTED FOR ATTMPTD ASSASSINATION OF POTUS! FILES R FLAGGED FROM HIGHEST AUTHORITY - NSA JUST SHUT MY SERVERS DOWN. GONNA GO DARK SOON. GOONS WILL COME FOR THEM - GET. OUT.

Reid nearly dropped the phone. His mind was swirling trying to make sense of the insensible. This house had been a long-shot lead from the Marshals - a place that Hotch had been to in the past. But now it was a hideout for federally-hunted terrorists? And whom had they kidnapped? The place looked like an unlikely staging area for a sophisticated terror cell, and there was no way that two men who looked like unemployed musicians were capable of getting close enough to the President to be an actual threat…

He was about to text Garcia back when he heard another engine signature approaching. This one was a Jeep, suspension high and designed for overcoming many types of terrain. It was old but well tended, and hummed contentedly as it slid alongside the black muscle car and parked. The driver stepped out without scanning his surroundings, as if he trusted this place. He walked past both vehicles and headed for the farmhouse’s rotting porch. Reid held his breath.

_Hotch_

He was dressed like the other two had been - jeans, work boots, oil-skin coat - and looked like a stranger with his hair grown out and a solid salt-and-pepper beard framing his features. There was an obvious bulge under his jacket on his gun side, but he didn’t reach for it. He just tiredly climbed the stairs and shuffled into the house as if he were expected.

Reid tried breathing again. His pulse jackrabbited in his throat making him choke when he swallowed. He was freezing and realized that at some point he’d begun sweating, the chill of his damp clothes leeching through his skin like a sudden, new betrayal.

Hotch was there. Hotch was a part of this? Hotch was… a terrorist? His stomach lurched and Reid shook himself viciously. The rain tapped out _You never suspected_ along the roof. The hiss of the winter grass whispered _We told you but you knew better, right?_ SecretsSecretsSecrets, his heartbeat thrummed until his faith in what he understood pressed at his temples, pushing from the inside out, forcing him to massage the pain back before it blossomed into a migraine that would render him useless. His phone beeped again.

Garcia: REID?  
…  
…  
Garcia: REID!!  
Garcia: I’m telling Emily everything

His fingers flew as he powered off the phone and then ripped the casing apart to find and remove the battery. It was a half measure at best; Garcia could still track him from his final messages, but it might buy him a little time. Next, he popped the glove compartment and retrieved his gun. He checked the clip, the chamber and the safety, before pocketing it and his extra clip into his coat. Then he stared at the farmhouse for one moment longer, as if _it_ had destroyed everything instead of the man he’d always had absolute faith in. Then he pushed his softness aside and stepped out into the freezing rain, creeping towards the porch and drawing his weapon. There was an innocent person in there he had to save. It just wasn’t the person he’d set out to rescue in the first place.

 

\----

The front door creaked as he slid in, and he winced at it. Luckily, he heard voices immediately and realized no one would pay attention to a creak in an ancient, lonely house. He followed the voices until he came to a doorway with light flickering beyond it. The dancing shadows aided his cause as he peered from the doorframe into a bare, wide room lit by gas lanterns. They were circled around a chair and the bound victim was tied to it, his hood now removed. Reid tamped down on the shock of recognition that burned in his chest when he saw the victim’s face - _My God… we are so completely screwed…_ and then his gaze flicked to the floor and the strange symbol that the giant kidnapper was painting around the chair. It was a language of some kind but Reid didn’t recognize it, and there was a horrible familiarity to the ceremony of it.

_Cult. The Marshals mentioned a cult…_

“This is a terrible risk, Dean,” Hotch’s voice, calm and resigned, echoed through the space. The suspicious kidnapper looked to him. “We’ve used this place before.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Dean husked, scratching his head with a hand that casually held a large, pearl-handled gun. “You think we could’ve kept him bound forever in the back of my car? We’re lucky we made it this far.”

“And that was with Cas’s help. The binding won’t hold for long though,” the giant kidnapper said as he stood from his work. “At least this place is isolated. If it all goes to hell, there won’t be collateral damage.”

The victim suddenly grinned, his mouth bloody. “Oh Sam, ‘if it all goes to Hell’? I didn’t take you for a punner…”

“Shut up,” Dean growled without much heat. Hotch ignored the exchange as if the victim wasn’t there. It was the exact opposite reaction to the one Reid would’ve expected from the man he’d worked with for over a decade.

“Where is Castiel? We could use him here.” Hotch paced restlessly. Another incongruity. 

The kidnap victim sat up and shifted his chair playfully, which struck Reid as very odd behavior. “No you couldn’t, hunter. Castiel doesn’t have the juice for this. None of you do, really. Only the ginger bitch does and I don’t see her here playing for Team Doomed. So why don’t we just call it a day and go our separate ways, huh? No hard feelings.”

The victim smiled in a way that suggested innocence but failed. Reid shivered to see it. It was if the guy didn’t _know_ how to act innocent. Reid’s eyes flicked to Hotch and caught him shake once, and then watched as an almost murderous expression descended over him. Reid had seen that before - the day Foyet killed Haley - and his stomach sunk with the finality of it.

“There’s no walking away from this,” Hotch gritted out. Something squeezed Reid’s chest where he hid in the dark until he almost squeaked from the sudden pain. _Why, Hotch? What made you become the thing you spent your adult life hunting?_

“Well, you’re right about that,” the victim smirked. “Just not in the way you think. You’re soooo tedious, Hotchner. Honestly. Who would’ve thought that you could bore me more than the Brothers Grimm here…”

Reid was very confused by this interaction and that only escalated when the victim chuckled and then twisted to look Reid right in the eyes through the darkness as if he’d always known he was there. Reid raised his weapon and took a deep breath, figuring his cover was irredeemably compromised, and stepped forward.

“I think my day just got more interesting,” the victim murmured as Reid stepped into the light.

“FBI,” Reid called out by rote, sweeping the room with his gun while trying hard not to look any of the men in the eye. “Release this man at once.”

“What the…” Dean aimed his impressive gun at Reid’s chest. Sam silently did the same, flexing his grip nervously. “Hotchner! What the FUCK?!?”

“Reid,” Hotch breathed in shock but it was so quiet that it was barely audible. Reid didn’t look at him, instead focusing on the guns pointed at him.

“Let him go,” Reid reiterated to the guys who were going to kill him. “Back-up’s on the way.” It was such an effortless, smooth lie, even Hotch would buy it.

“Dammit,” Dean muttered and flexed his grip on his weapon. “Anyone got a Plan B?”

The victim laughed behind Reid. “Oh, I _like_ this one. He’s got some secret balls…”

“Reid,” Hotch used his negotiator voice, and Reid heard him take a step forward. “You don’t understand what’s going on here…”

The incendiary anger that had been moving Reid forward since the day Hotch cut them in two crested with a sudden, terrible power. He swung his glare to Hotch for the first time and aimed his gun at the middle of his chest, his finger slowly moving to the trigger. Hotch’s eyes widened in disbelief as he watched it happen.

“That’s absolutely true, Aaron. I don’t understand this at all. You abandoned your family, moved clear across the country, are associating with individuals wanted for treason, and you have kidnapped the President’s Chief of Staff for… what? Torture? Blackmail? Murder? Political Instability?”

Hotch’s throat moved convulsively and he had to clear it before he managed to speak. “No… no…” 

He seemed suddenly terrified and it made Reid’s stomach twist. But the fear also seemed out of place; even if someone started shooting, _terror_ was an extreme reaction for Hotch. Reid pushed it down into the depths of numbness he was developing. He’d unravel the subtleties later. 

_His lies are more seamless than yours… don’t let him get the upper hand with a new fiction._

“People told me to let you go, that I didn’t understand what was happening in your life. Perhaps disappearing was what you wanted all along,” Reid continued, his trembling rolling into this forward momentum that was driving towards ending all of this. Maybe even killing his friend. “But I believed you needed help. I never gave up on the idea of the man I’d admired most of my adult life. But I guess you fooled me. Everyone else was right and I was wrong.”

Hotch stood frozen, blinking, as if he didn’t understand what Reid was saying. Reid just pushed through the last of it. “I guess this betrayal I feel now I did to myself, because it’s clear - finally - that I never knew you at all.”

“Wow, Hotchner, you’re tedious _and_ a douchebag…” the victim chuckled behind Reid.

Hotch flinched ever so slightly, almost like a microexpression, and then it was gone. He raised his hands and took another tentative step forward, his expression morphing into one that pleaded _trust me_. “Reid-”

“Take one more step, Mr. Hotchner, and I’ll put you down,” Reid said evenly, just explaining the situation to an unsub in a hostage scenario. “Imminent threat. You know how this works.”

Hotch went still, all animation draining from him as his face paled, focusing on Reid’s trigger finger.

“Ummm, Reid? That’s your name right? Agent Reid…” It was Sam. Reid heard him clear his throat awkwardly and then continue, but Reid didn’t look away from Hotch. “Listen, there’s a lot happening right now and I know it _looks_ bad, but I promise you that we’re the good guys here…”

“Sam…” Dean mumbled. “Wasted breath…”

“Dean, he just doesn’t know…”

“Oh man,” the kidnap victim was laughing gleefully now. “Go on, Boy Scout, give him the Cliff’s Notes version. How often has that worked for you in the past?”

Sam, Dean, and Hotch all yelled ‘Shut up!’ simultaneously, which made Reid twitch and just encouraged more laughter from the victim behind him. Now Reid’s anger twisted into irritation.

“Reid,” Hotch tried again but remained completely still, not prepared to tempt the power of what had come between them. “I know he looks like the President’s Chief of Staff, but he isn’t. Not inside - he’s someone else.”

The laughter he heard next was his own and it scared him with how unhinged and grating it sounded. “Fergoli’s Delusion, Hotch? Really? I thought you were more creative under pressure than that. Save it for your legal defense.”

“It’s true,” Sam said while Dean muttered, “We don’t have time for this shit.”

“I’m untying this man and he’s coming with me,” Reid declared loudly and stepped towards the circle still training his gun on the others.

“Don’t,” Dean growled and adjusted his aim.

“Whatever you three choose to do afterwards is up to you,” Reid concluded, and took another step back.

“Don’t cross the circle, Reid!” Hotch’s voice boomed, too high and loud. Reid had never heard him like that before. His gaze cut to him and Hotch was reaching out, eyes rimmed with white and his mouth hanging open as if he couldn’t get enough air.

“Don’t do it,” Sam warned, but Reid took another step, his heel just edging inside the painted perimeter.

“Spencer, _please!_ Step out now!” Hotch yelled.

“Holy shit, this is taking too long,” a voice said directly behind him and Reid turned to find the victim freed and grinning at him. Then the grin turned feral as he seized Reid around his chest so strongly that he heard ribs cracking an instant before the pain hit and paralyzed him with his mouth agape. “I don’t have the patience to wait for an invitation, Slim. We’re gonna do this old school…”

Reid heard Hotch scream a horrified “NO!” the moment the victim’s mouth opened and released a swirling, black cloud. The smoke twisted for a second and hung before him and then it defied physics and changed direction slamming into Reid’s mouth and scraping it’s way down his throat.

“No! No! No!” he heard distantly and wasn’t sure who was screaming. And then loud chanting drowned out the yelling in a language that was old and sharp. _Sumerian?_ , his mind burped a moment before his whole body told him that he was burning from the inside out. Reid tried to push away despite the pain circling his chest and sealing his lungs, but his arms remained limp at his sides. His legs refused commands to move, his feet remained rooted in this terrible embrace. Something pushed into his mind, shoving him aside like an unwanted toy. It expanded and stretched until Reid felt pressed to the very edges of himself, no room to move, to think, to breath. He felt himself thrash and scream instinctively, clawing at the press and swallowing down nothing but a plastic silence that sealed his fear into himself. His body didn’t even hiccup. _What is this? WHAT IS THIS?!?_

The man who’d trapped him unceremoniously fell to the floor and Reid stood alone, whole - too whole - and unaided. But he couldn’t feel his body. He commanded it to turn but it didn’t. He demanded that it pay attention to the yelling around him, but it became fascinated by his fingers instead, lifting them before his eyes as if he’d never seen them before.

_Hmmmm. Would it have killed you to lift a few weights, Slim?_

The voice echoed through every fiber of him, blistering and acidic everywhere until he thought that perhaps words could kill.

 _No, they can’t. Well, at least not any words in YOUR language_ , the voice sliced through him again. _Stop fighting and it won’t hurt so much._

Reid took a moment to recover from the pain. Then, _Who are you?_

_C’mon, Slim, just look deep into yourself. I’m not hiding it from you… unlike some people._

The voice laughed and that hurt even more than speaking. He curled into a ball to withstand it and then he reached out - to what, he wasn’t certain - and searched around blindly. He slapped at it clumsily and it bit him back, sending a poisonous snap through him that felt like someone hissing _Manners, Spencer._ And Reid recoiled violently when the answer spelled itself out in his mind.

_You’re not one of those types that’ll turn into a drooling idiot over this, are you? I mean, don’t get me wrong - that’d make things easier for me - but your brain’s sort of impressive for an angry monkey, and I think I could get some use out of it._

_Spencer? Helllllloooooooo?_

His body rocked forward even though he couldn’t feel it. He only knew it happened by sight. He turned and then it rocked backward into the circle again. His hands moved to his chest and came away bloody; his gaze moved upwards and he saw Dean sneering at him with his gun aimed at Reid’s head. It all happened too slowly, and then in the space of a breath, time wound forward again to catch up and he could hear and think and feel and _Owowowow!ohgodwhatjusthappened?_ Then Hotch was impossibly there in front of him pushing Dean’s gun hand upwards as he fired a killshot into the rafters, and Hotch pressed his own gun to Dean’s head.

“Aaron!” Sam yelled and then shifted his own aim to target Hotch.

“I know you’ve been to Hell, Winchester, but if you fire another shot at him, I’ll drag you back there myself and make sure that your previous visit felt like a vacation,” Hotch hissed quietly using Dean as a shield against Sam’s aim.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dean said through a humorless smile. “He’s dead anyway… You know that.”

“Then I have nothing left to lose. And that makes my threat a lot more dangerous to you.”

“Alright, Aaron. Calm down, man,” Sam took one hand off his gun and raised it in surrender while swinging the weapon back to face Reid. “But we’ve got a serious problem here.”

“Wow, you guys spend waaaay too much time dealing with these _feelings_ … It’s a wonder that you get anything else done.” It was Reid’s voice. He felt his lips moving, but it wasn’t him.

_What are you doing?_

_Communicating. It’s my little hat tip to all of your monkey feely-feels. Is it too much? ‘Cause I could always just snap their necks and we could blow this joint…_

Reid flexed every part of him that would respond with a silent, bone-fracturing, muscle-tearing arc of energy that boomed out **NO**. It manifested through his body as a small cough - disappointing, but something.

_Alright, alright, no need to get testy, Slim - the monkeys will live. For now. Call it a good faith gesture to our new partnership._

Reid wasn’t sure what he’d just accomplished. Was he… negotiating with an entity inside his head?

“Let him go, Lucifer,” Hotch growled, still holding his gun to Dean’s temple. “Find another. Or take me instead…”

Reid was floored that Hotch was staring into _his_ eyes and speaking to a being that only five minutes before Reid had considered to be merely a metaphor. This knowledge was old to Hotch - worn and familiar - it hadn’t broken his stride at all. Reid twisted away from Hotch’s gaze. 

_How could you keep this from me?_

“Listen, cupcake,” Lucifer oozed in Reid’s voice, making Reid’s spine curl in the process. “As much as I’d prefer a little muscle tone in my skin suits, Slim here has a lot more going for him than just being a convenient ride outta this town. I think I’ll keep him. At least until he burns out.”

_What?_

_Don’t worry. You’ll be fine for a couple of months. More than enough time to paint the town - or the world, actually - red. It’s gonna be fun. You’ll see, Slim._

“He’s not a vessel, Lucifer,” Sam spoke up, eyebrows tenting with worry. “He won’t last.”

“Jealous, baby?” Lucifer cooed. “Say the word and I’m yours. You know I miss the feel of you, darling, even though you treat me so bad...”

Sam recoiled and Dean re-aimed at Reid even as Hotch dug the muzzle of his gun into his hairline. 

“Dean…”

“Fuck you, Hotch. I’ll kill your boy and go to Hell to save my brother. Don’t doubt that for a goddamned second,” Dean barked. “Wanna dance, Lucy? I’ve put a few holes in your suit already…”

“Well!” Lucifer raised Reid’s bloody hand to his throat with drama. “Aren’t we just all overflowing with sublimated dude-on-dude lust right now! Though I’m gonna cast less judgment in Aaron’s direction, Dean, simply because at least _he_ isn’t trying to get with his own brother…”

“Son of a-”

Sam grabbed Dean’s gun and pulled it from his grip. “This isn’t helping,” Sam said when he received a glare from his brother.

_They’re brothers?_

_I know, right? So messed up. But as far as sins go: DELICIOUS. Shall we tell Aaron about yours? That could be fun…_

Reid stretched again, until he thought he’d snap apart. He welcomed the searing sting of the bullets in his flesh, pulled them close, and then stretched out again adding that pain to the feeling of him breaking in two. **NO.** Reid’s body staggered and he felt Lucifer breathe out a surprised huff when it happened. Through eyes he could no longer command, he saw three sets stare back at him in wary confusion. They knew this creature better than him, but still, they’d never seen _that_ before.

“Slim needs some taming…” Lucifer tsked, and Hotch’s expression changed from suspicion to devastation in a moment.

“Oh God… Spencer…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah… he can hear you. How did you think this process worked in the first place?” Lucifer looked to Sam. “You didn’t tell them anything, did you? Naughty minx, wanted to keep our hijinks to yourself, hmmmm?” 

His gaze swept back to Dean and Hotch, who now both looked gutted. Hotch’s gun had dropped to his side. “Every single monkey I’ve ever ridden was awake, boys. The whole time. Don’t believe what Baby Bro told you, D-bag. Active participation is a must in this show.”

_Stop laughing._

_Why? Their complete cluelessness about what they’re up against is pathetic. You’ve always been such a colossal waste of time - I thought so from the moment He created you and was all ‘Oooohhh, look at what I did!’ Every time human idiocy manifests itself, I am obligated to laugh and point. Don’t try and change me, Slim._

_So, what’s your plan then?_

_We get outta here and start having some fun. Tear it up. You know, get ourselves some abject adoration mixed with a little well-earned fear and just fucking marinate in it until we prune. I’ll even get you some ass, Slim, whatever you want. EVERYONE wants to fuck a bad boy, trust me, and given what I’ve seen of your mind so far, you could probably use some. Honestly, if you wait too much longer parts will start falling off, monkey…_

Reid tried to shake his head in disgust and then realized how fruitless that was.

_That’s your plan? It’s so… pointless._

_Well, newsflash, Slim, ALL of this is pointless. There’s no fate you have to role-play your way through, no cosmic scale to balance. There’s no purpose to your small, viral infection of a life other than ending it, and I’ll help you with that soon enough. There’s no one higher up on the food chain to impress, or appeal to, or stand before to defend your choices. Your existence is only about entropy and annihilation with some shiny shit to distract you along the way - that’s it. So get onboard with that, Slim, or I’ll turn you into a walking vegetable and do whatever the hell I want with you until I wear too many holes in you to be considered fashionable anymore. Got it?_

Reid sat back in the miniscule corner of his mind that was allotted to him and considered this. He didn’t want any part of it. He wanted agency, control, knowledge… even knowledge like this that turned his universe inside out on him. But the choice between being either an active or passive vegetable was no choice at all. He watched through his uncontrolled eyes while the brothers and Hotch continued to argue. The brothers wanted to kill him using words like ‘inevitable’, ‘containment’, and ‘greater good’. Hotch argued aggressively about ‘consciousness’, his skin mottling uncharacteristically under his beard. He seemed exhausted and defeated though he was fighting both impulses valiantly. Reid had seen that look before, after Haley died, and suddenly all he could think about was whether he could end this instead of making Hotch do it.

_Hey now, Slim, none of that. You don’t have that kind of power anyway._

Reid curled up into himself away from the slicing voice in his mind.

_Well, if I have no say in it and you’re bent on debauchery and destruction, why are we still here?_

_The circle, Slim. The bindings hold me here, but it’s temporary. I was hoping you could just walk me outta here because you had one foot out already, but then Dean-o shot you back in, so… But it’s just a matter of time. I can already feel the spell wearing thin around us._

Reid tried to still his mind and _feel_ anything, and after a long, frightening bout of numb nothingness, he sensed the slightest pressure pushing back against the enormity of Lucifer pushing OUT. He found the physics of this new reality to be interesting and thanked his brain for finding knowledge so compelling even now at the end of his existence. Reid looked out again from his prison and saw Hotch. The lines around his eyes were deep and pinched, his neck corded as he argued and tried to keep his voice even, his hands gestured to Reid and each time his eyelids flickered as if he wanted to look but was too scared to try. He just kept battling the brothers instead.

_Hey, Slim… we could take him too. I’d have to compel him, but you could be together. I’ll give him to you if you really wanted him. I’ll make him want you too - it’ll feel completely real…_

What Reid wanted was so utterly beside the point now. Everything that had come before - the words, the misunderstandings, the secrets - it faded faster than he could fathom as he was left with one, indisputable impulse.

_I wish I had a chance to say a proper goodbye, Aaron. Now I know what that feels like too._

And then, because the person he was sharing his mind with was cruel bastard, Lucifer spoke.

“Slim is one sentimental monkey,” he laughed in Reid’s voice. The brothers and Hotch fell silent and stared back at him. Lucifer curled a little closer, probably trying to appear more endearing. “He wants to hold your hand, Hotchner, and have a little ‘there, there, dear’ moment with you. Of all the stuff we could do now…”

Lucifer bent so that he was as close to Hotch as the circle permitted. Reid could fell the pressure pushing back intensify as he did it. The lines around Hotch’s eyes tightened into sharp slashes.

“You should see the things he thinks about you, Aaron. Such a filthy, chaotic tangle of shit - it’s almost gorgeous. What a broken, lonely little toy our Spencer is…”

Reid heard Hotch make a wretched sound that was halfway between a growl and a whimper deep in his chest, and the noise did something terrible to Reid in return. He tried to look away, tried to turn his back on their final moments, but Lucifer’s gaze was resolutely fixed and Reid was helpless, bound to watch it all. Hotch’s expression flickered in another microexpression - grief doggedly pulling his features downward before being erased by absolute determination.

“I’m sorry, Spencer,” he murmured while staring into his enemy’s eyes, then he turned to the Winchesters. “Sam, do it.”

“It won’t work,” Sam huffed quickly. “It wasn’t designed for him.”

“Do it,” Hotch growled.

“Sammy, just try,” Dean sighed. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll end it. Agreed?”

Dean glared at Hotch and Hotch nodded once in response. Then all three men turned to Reid. Sam immediately began chanting and the words sounded familiar.

“And now we come to the comedy portion of our program,” Lucifer sighed. “C’mon, Sam, you know you can’t expel me - not with that bespoke little incantation the witch cooked up. It’s just annoying.”

Sam continued chanting and Reid understood the echo of the phrases if not the words themselves: he’d heard it when Lucifer first invaded him. They’d tried to stop him then. Sumerian, he was certain of it. The pressure around his body ramped up pushing back against the iron edges of Lucifer in his mind until he felt as if he’d explode and disappear between the two.

“It’s not working…” Lucifer sang out trying to sound bored.

_You’re lying._

Dean added his voice to Sam’s and the pressure become a stinging blade making broad cuts all along Reid’s body. His lungs seized as the pain surprised him, but Lucifer kept acting as if it were an amusing party trick and nothing more.

“You don’t have enough power, Sam, and soon the circle will break…”

The brothers continued chanting and then a moment later Hotch joined them, the punch of his baritone adding a painful pulling to the pressure and it was enough to make both Reid and Lucifer hiss in discomfort. The twitch wasn’t lost on them and they all started shouting the banishment curse, each reiteration adding another layer of stretching-yanking-pulling that made Reid scream as Lucifer dug claws into his mind to keep himself in place.

“He’s mine,” he growled in a tone of voice Reid had never used in his life. “I’ll scorch the heart out of him as I go, Aaron. He’ll just be burnt paper inside when I’m done, and you _still_ won’t stop me. Is that what you want? Your boy will be deader than BBQ and I’ll just find someone else…”

Hotch’s voice hesitated.

_No, Aaron! Don’t stop… don’t give in!_

_Shut up, Slim. He can’t hear you._

Whether he heard him or not, Hotch began chanting again and the pulling became cumulative to the point where Reid was having difficulty forming thoughts above the pain. But the one thing he understood was that Lucifer was right: it wasn’t enough power. They all stood on the threshold together, three men outside him yanking with as much old power as they possessed, and a creature within, rooted and closer to Reid’s soul than anything he’d ever tried to imagine. It wouldn’t work; they were going to fail. He’d spend the rest of his short life watching himself do enough unspeakable things that his mind would voluntarily detach from it. It would be his worst fear: to be trapped and helpless inside his mind.

Reid curled into himself, balled up the scorching pain, the slices across his mind, and the stinging burrs of the bullets in his chest, and rolled them together to suck them in like oxygen. The hurt was exquisite.

_Slim, what are you doing?_

He held onto the pain, let it circle around inside him like sharks in bloody water, and then he burrowed as deeply as he could and _thought._

Sumerian… Sumerian… gods, beasts, stars in the heavens, the fear that came with the inky blackness of night, idiosyncratic language of hushed terror, talismans, firelight, shelter from the hoards of men and demons… 

_wait…_

_Slim, what are you DOING?_

He didn’t know if it would work. He didn’t know if he was even remembering it correctly - the pain was almost hallucinogenic now. But he had little choice and even less time to decide. He curled around the flesh-eating pain in his soul and said the words. And then he said them again, and again.

_Slim!_

The pulling was splitting him apart. He repeated the words over and over, imagining his voice added to those outside him. And then when he didn’t think he could last another second, he released the energy he held close and pushed it out so that he was flattened under the strain, with barely enough space left to emit a single breath.

The claws in his brain came free suddenly and tearing away huge chunks as they left. There was a whine, like the stretch of an elastic before it snaps, and then a loud pop, and then Reid dropped into blackness that was absolute and borderless. And he was _awake_. It took a moment for the panic to set in. He was aware and conscious but still couldn’t feel anything. And he was alone.

He screamed.

It felt like it went on for hours. But then light flickered and the world reappeared, blinding and painful and fully realized. He was staring at the rafters along the roof, blinking to make his pupils adjust and causing his vision to water in the process. 

He tried to speak. Nothing. 

He tried to move. Nothing. 

His body sprang into sensation without warning and he was assailed with the cracked ribs, the bullets moving each time he breathed, and the creeping cold that crawled up his legs and arms. And underneath it all, his body was a husk, limp and deflated where once he had been enough to fill himself. He was a disconnected consciousness, floating in a casing he could no longer control. Locked in and silenced, he stared helplessly at the old farmhouse ceiling. He screamed again.

_No, no, nononononono!_

Then Hotch was staring down at him. “Reid? Reid!... C’mon…”

Fingers skimmed along his neck, pressing and waiting.

“I’m so sorry, Hotch,” said Sam distantly.

“He’s alive. There’s a pulse.” Hotch turned his eyes somewhere to his left. Reid desperately wanted to turn his head, put all of his flagging energy into it, and only managed to cough once feebly. But it brought Hotch’s eyes back to him.

“There’s a difference between alive and… _alive_ , Hotch,” Dean said cautiously. “Lucifer probably lobotomized him on the way out.”

“Dean!” Sam hissed.

“What? Look at that guy, Sam. He’s like an overcooked noodle… and he probably _has_ an overcooked noodle too. Plus, he’s bleeding out all over the place.”

Reid felt hands run over him, press against him strategically, and then a whispered ‘fuck’.

“Hey, Hotchner,” Dean cleared his throat. “I’m… I’m sorry I shot him, okay?”

_Oh no. Aaron?_

“Call 911,” Hotch said in his Unit Chief voice.

_Aaron? Am I dying? Aaron? … Where are you? Aaron!_

“We can’t, Hotc-”

“Call 911 now, and then get out of here,” Hotch growled and Reid felt his hands gripping him hard while still trying to be gentle. “Take that guy with you.”

“The Chief of Staff? We can’t-” Dean started.

“I cannot explain his presence here when the authorities arrive. Take him with you and drop him off at an ER somewhere.” Reid couldn’t see Hotch’s face but he’d heard that tone of voice before. It was the eerie calmness that came over him when he was trying to control great violence in him. “Now go.”

“Make the call, Dean,” Sam murmured, and then after a moment Reid heard Dean sigh as his footsteps wandered away. “Are you sure about this?” Sam asked once he heard Dean talking to the emergency operator.

“I can’t explain you two either, and I don’t have enough pull anymore to get you out of the trouble you’re in. You’ve got to go, Sam.”

“What about you? Can you get yourself out of trouble?”

Hotch held both he and Reid still for a moment and then released a choppy breath that made Reid’s ribs crack and grind with it. He yelled at the quick stabs of pain, but the sound only echoed in his head.

_oh god… Aaron, help me… I need to get out…_

“I’m staying with him,” he said quietly. Reid’s torso was lifted and his head flopped forward showing him only a view of his useless legs dragging in the dust on the floor. His broken ribs clacked together like teeth, lighting up his chest with pain so bright that he forgot to breathe. He was settled back against something - Hotch’s chest - he could feel his heart bumping against his shoulder blade. And then his head flopped back gently into Hotch’s shoulder so he could finally see his face again. The pain eased a little and Reid let out a soft grunt. Arms wrapped around him and hands pressed into the soft sticky parts that were slowly killing him.

_Aaron… look at me. Please look at me… I’m still here. I’M STILL IN HERE!_

“Hotch… Aaron, he’s not going to forget him. Lucifer, I mean. If Reid lives-” Sam said.

“He’s going to make it,” Hotch bit out but the rapid thumping against Reid’s shoulder said otherwise.

“Okay, _when_ he recovers… Lucifer doesn’t like loose ends.”

“You would know.”

“Yes, I would, which is why I’m saying… when you’re ready - both of you - come find me. I’ll tell you what you need to know.”

There was a painful moment of silence and Hotch’s resigned tha-thump beating into Reid’s back.

“Thanks, Sam,” he said quietly, and then, “Get out of here.”

Footsteps shuffled and then grew distant. A minute later the muscle car engine roared to life and then became distant too. There was nothing left but the rain on the roof, the sounds of the weary house around them, and the tattooed tha-thump that sounded louder than Reid’s own heart.

_Aaron? … please, let me see you, please… I’m scared and cold and everything hurts._

Reid felt rough hair tickle the side of his face, and then the edge of Hotch’s profile came into view. His breath was hot and close, breezing down his jaw unevenly as if he’d been running for miles. And then the rocking motion started - not enough to do anymore damage, and just enough to ease some of the panic that threatened to swallow Reid’s mind whole.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered eventually, sounding destroyed. His arms held Reid a little closer. “I did this. I killed you.”

_Aaron, no…_

“I should have told you… should’ve said everything I meant to. Instead, I wasted our time together, and now there’s none left.”

His whisper got wetter and then stopped with an awful choking sound. Reid wanted to twist, to look him in the eyes, he wanted to will his mouth to speak and his hands to rise and clasp the ones around him. He strained, trying to summon _something_ in him to work, but his limbs were numb now, cold and disconnected, and so his efforts only amounted to a wheeze.

_Aaron! I’m HERE! Look at me… Please tell me that you see me… Help me!_

There was wetness against his cheek now making both of their beards sticky where it pressed between them.

“If you’re still with me, Spencer,” Hotch’s voice stuttered and then ground forward like he was dragging it over broken glass. “Stay here. Please.”

_I’M HERE!_

“I never meant to let you go.” The whisper was tight, like it cost a terrible price to say it, and then lips brushed against Reid’s temple. And every fiber of Reid ached at it - how close it was, and how hopelessly far away. His own breathing stuttered, probably more to do with his body shutting down than anything, and he briefly closed his eyes against the pain that was surging again. When he opened them his vision was blurry and there was another damp trail slipping down his cheek.

_I’m here, Aaron. I found you… I’m with you. I told you I wouldn’t give up._

But the edges of his sight were getting dark and his body was getting colder. He blinked to stay present but his eyelids got heavier, perhaps finally giving in the way the rest of him had. He couldn’t comprehend the idea of being trapped in darkness, inside a mute, paralyzed form, and still live. Surely he’d go mad. Surely… But how long would it take? Would it be hours, days… years? His eyelids drooped again and again, staying closed longer each time. The panic in him flared once more, giving him one last burst of energy. He used it as best he could. It came out as an unexpected grunt that made Hotch’s chest shuffle against him and the heartbeat at Reid’s shoulder thump erratically before speeding up.

 _I loved you_ , he shouted inside his mind. To hell if no one could hear it. _If I leave you now, it’s not by choice, and it’s also not your fault._

“Spencer? Spence? Hey, hey… stay with me…” Hotch’s arms squeezed tighter, strong enough to make Reid’s ribs sing, but he no longer cared about that. He was sinking into darkness and the pain was receding as well. 

_That’s not so bad… it doesn’t hurt so much…_

“Hey, you hear that? I think it’s sirens…” Hotch sounded hopeful - just the barest sliver of it slipping under his skin. But Reid couldn’t tell. His vision went dark and he dropped down into something warm that was beyond caring and pain and time.


	3. Resurrection

The room was grey and purple. _How fitting_ , he thought with a sad sort of drop in his stomach. 

A moment later he considered that reaction and wondered if it was right. Should he have felt anything? He blinked several times but nothing got any clearer - his eyes were fine, it was just dark. He realized, with a frightening thrilling rush, that he could _feel_ himself. Not just sensory awareness, but a tingling promise that if he asked his body to do something it might answer him. Somewhere beyond his reach a rhythmic beeping accelerated and his excitement turned to fear as he thought about reaching out, asking his body to react, and waiting for the response that would either save him or drive him mad. He took a deep breath, and said _turn your head_.

The scene before his eyes shifted slowly. The sheets, the curtains, the rails that framed him moved aside as his neck ached and his head flopped to the side of a thin pillow. And his gaze landed on a square of blue light beyond his bed - a window - and the figure slouching against the wall staring out listlessly. He wanted to call out, but it was too much to ask. His throat clicked dryly as the beeping accelerated again, faster this time, and he tried to convince his body to perform another miracle. But he was heavy everywhere and every single inch of him hurt like it never had before.

He tried again, bent his entire will to that purpose, and understood that he was tied down. Not exactly tied, more like connected with a dozen wires and tubes all hampering his progress. There was something plastic and thin pressing across his face making him feel cool in that one spot. He winced and reached up to feel it - an oxygen tube - and he grunted as he pulled it from him getting part of it caught where it hooked over one ear. It was only then that he realized he was _alive_.

The figure at the window twitched at the sound, and then he was beside the bed leaning over with a worn expression of disbelief that said he’d all but given up hope.

“Spencer?” he whispered, and then reached for the hand tangled in the breathing tube. “Hold on…”

Reid opened his mouth but produced nothing but a dry rasp, and the excited beeping ratcheted up a notch.

“Hey, hey… calm down,” Hotch soothed and then reached for something, placing a straw to Reid’s lips. “Drink a little. Just a little.”

Reid obeyed, staring at Hotch fiercely, trying to be patient with his body when his mind was swirling with questions and urgency and _pleasejusttellmeIcancommunicate_. The water cooled as he drank, and he felt relieved by the alchemy of it. He felt more real. Hotch pulled the straw away and waited, his eyes shadowed, scowl evident even under his beard, and his whole body bent to shoulder the weight of his exhaustion.

Reid swallowed hard several times. “You look terrible,” he finally croaked.

And Hotch laughed so hard Reid thought it might break him in his current condition. He sagged and let the sound shake his body. “Thanks, buddy.” Something flickered in Hotch’s eyes, delight quickly shaded by worry, and Reid read it too easily. _He doesn’t know if he can call me that anymore._

“How long?” Reid asked.

“Almost five days now.” The exhaustion returned and Reid wanted that to stop. _Let’s just stop exhausting one another, Aaron._ Hotch swallowed noticeably before continuing. “The doctors… they didn’t have a lot of faith that you’d regain consciousness.”

“That’s because they don’t know me,” Reid rasped and heard the beeping next to him skip once when his statement produced the barest of smiles from Hotch.

The smile faded and they stared at one another for a while in silence. Reid waited for Hotch to start with all the words floating across his face, but he didn’t, perhaps rendered mute by the shear amount of things he had to explain. Reid watched him fold back into himself, just like he had all of those times they’d met up at Marvin’s and he poked at Hotch too insistently. _He’s doing penance_ , he thought and then decided to hell with that.

“Something was inside me,” he began. “Something beyond my ability to explain.”

“Yes.”

“But you understood it. You knew what it was. You could’ve explained it.”

“Yes.” Hotch crumpled under the word.

Reid took a painful breath. His chest hurt tremendously. “How long have you known?”

Hotch shifted uncomfortably in the plastic chair next to the bed. “Decades. Since college.”

Reid raised his eyebrows. Hotch shrugged, ashamed.

“I was at a party on campus one night when a group of vampires showed up and began slaughtering everyone. It was chaos - people running, terrified, mindless. And then this girl appeared from out of nowhere and started fighting back. I just stood there dumbfounded and she threw a machete at me and yelled that I should make myself useful. She was the first hunter I ever met.”

“Hunter?”

“That’s what we are, I guess. It’s what we call ourselves.”

“So, you’re a group?”

Hotch chuckled without amusement. “We’re not so organized as all that. Not here, but in other countries there are organizations of people who do this, yes. In the States it’s mostly just random people who’ve encountered something supernatural and lost, and then decided to fight back.”

“Victims,” Reid husked grimly and then watched Hotch nod. “Whom did you lose?”

Hotch’s eyes went wide and he pinched his mouth shut as if he didn’t want to answer. “Haley. I was a hunter before then, but… I lost Haley anyway.”

“Foyet?”

“He was a demon. George Foyet was a man - perhaps a bad one - but a demon inhabited him just as Lucifer inhabited you.”

Reid shivered at the memory of being pressed against the back wall of his mind and made irrelevant. The movement sent a spasm of pain across his chest and he gasped sharply as the machines attached to him went crazy. A hand clasped his, grounding him as he tried to breathe through it.

“Steady now,” Hotch rumbled and Reid looked up to see the worry etched into his face again. He wondered if that’s all there ever was between them - companionship and this persistent fear of discovery. Maybe Reid had been the only one to see it as something else. Reid let himself lean heavily into the pillows and just stare. He didn’t know how many brutal answers he was up for today, but he _did_ know that he wouldn’t give up until he understood it completely.

Hotch watched him in silence for a while, trying to read him. Then he shrugged. “After the incident at college, becoming a lawyer didn’t seem so important anymore. I knew that monsters were real and terrifying… I decided that I had to find a way to fight them as well. So, I applied to the Bureau thinking that was the answer.”

“So… the killers we hunt…”

“Actually, most of the unsubs we’ve faced were just ordinary people. Humans can be horrible all on their own without any otherworldly influence it seems.” Hotch sighed. “But sometimes… and then there were times when other hunters needed help…”

Reid nodded gently. “The leaves you took. You always came back… drained somehow.”

Hotch took a wet breath that scared Reid, and then his gaze got distant. “I’ve saved so few, Spencer. I-I wanted to save people… most of the time it’s just putting someone down like a rabid animal. In twenty years I’ve probably killed more people than most of the unsubs we’ve caught.”

Hotch suddenly let go of Reid’s hand and leaned back into the shadows beyond the bed. His hand rose quickly to his face, and then away. “I’ve become what I’ve spent my life chasing, and… I almost had to put _you_ down.”

“Aaron,” Reid gasped, wanting his hand back so badly that he considered risking the pain of leaning out to reach for it again. “Why didn’t you just _tell me_ all of this?”

“Because you are what you believe, Spencer. And your world is formed by science and knowledge and math… you’re so sure of the rules of your own existence,” Hotch bit out savagely, and then took a breath and continued almost too quietly to hear. “And what you believe, the world you live in is _fucking amazing_. Who am I to destroy that? Why would I ruin it when I wanted to live in that world too?”

Something hard and urgent sprung into being and settled in Reid’s throat. Next to him the beeping got erratic and the machine sang out a warning buzz until the rhythm steadied again.

“I should’ve known better,” Hotch continued. “I was playing with fire…”

“But… my world was a lie. Why would you let me live a lie?”

“Millions of people live their whole lives in that exact same lie. They’re happy and productive - their existences aren’t any less meaningful because of what they _don’t_ know, Spencer. You can’t un-know this once you’ve seen it… it changes everything. It’s ruined me. I… didn’t want it to ruin you as well.”

“What about Haley? Jack?”

“No, never.” Hotch shook his head in the shadows. “You were the closest I came to telling anyone, but… well, now you know anyway… I’m sorry.”

So. Demons and vampires and fallen archangels, but also evolution, astrophysics, and the universal language of mathematics… It would take some time to process. And also, there was so much he had to learn now. Hotch watched him intensely.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

Reid blinked and then winced because even that hurt a little. “I’m reordering my world view. It’s gonna take a minute…”

Hotch chuckled softly.

“Are _you_ alright?” Reid asked.

“Not at all,” he replied and then moved on before Reid could follow up. “How did you find me?”

“Hotch,” Reid arched a judgmental eyebrow. “Tracking down people who don’t want to be found is what I do for a living. You taught me well and I paid attention.” Reid waited a beat and then added, “I told you that I wouldn’t give up.”

Hotch made a strange noise, gentle and hurt like something wounded, and then he reached into the pocket of his jeans to pull out a phone. His FBI-issued phone. He quickly entered his password and then flicked to a screen before turning and leaning close to the bed so Reid could read what was there.

They were Reid’s texts - all of them. Every single one from their last conversation forward. And under many of them were other texts, all with a bolded ‘Unsent’ after them.

11/26/2016 9:02am  
Hotch: Don’t follow me, Spencer. I’m not mad. Just… go live your life.

11/29/2016 4:01pm  
Hotch: How is Jack? I wish I could see him again. I wish I could see you both.

12/17/2016 2:30pm  
Hotch: Idaho is boring. It’s not just you.

12/28/2016 11:59pm  
Hotch: You’re badass everywhere you go. You just don’t see it. Christ, I miss you.

01/01/2017 12:17am  
Hotch: I’m sorry. Please… don’t hate me. It’s a lot to ask, I know. I’m not sure if this would be better or worse now if I’d told you how much I wanted that kiss that night. I wasn’t as drunk as I pretended to be.

01/10/2017 1:26pm  
Hotch: Spence, please GO HOME. Meet someone. Have a Henry of your own. Live your life. It’s selfish of me - the only way I can keep going is if I know you’re out there somewhere doing that.

 

Reid’s eyes flicked from the screen up to Hotch’s face, stunned. And then while he stared, Hotch’s cheeks flushed and the phone trembled in his grip until he shrugged and shoved it back into his jeans.

“I knew that you hadn’t given up,” he murmured. “But you should have.”

“Aaron…”

“It would’ve been better for us both if you did.”

“Aaron, look at me.”

Hotch’s eyes met his again and guilt was written all over them. Guilt for the danger, the lies, or maybe for just wanting something he thought he shouldn’t have. But Reid held his stare and willed himself to find the courage to do what he’d promised when a demon took his life from him. The machine beeped quickly next to them and Reid hated that it was telegraphing his every thought. The stare stretched out into an ache that settled into Reid’s chest and had nothing to do with his injuries; it closed in around them, making the space smaller, bending the distance between them until they were just a little bit closer.

“I’m still not giving up,” Reid breathed.

Hotch was completely still for an excruciating moment while the machines in the room beeped and booped too loudly. Then, he rose slowly from the chair and stepped closer to the bed. Reid watched him hesitate, bend until he was close enough to his face to make the details blurry, and then Reid held his breath as one of Hotch’s hands drifted up to skim the edge of Reid’s bearded jaw. The guilt was still in his eyes, still lining them with deep, wearied creases, but there was also something fragile underneath it, something just barely holding its own in the unspoken battle Hotch was having in his mind. He bent a little closer and Reid’s eyes slipped shut as he waited, breathing out a silent, relieved _yeeessss…_

“May I?” Hotch’s question breezed across Reid’s lips, and he opened his eyes to find Hotch staring at him, almost pleading.

“I told you,” Reid whispered back. “I didn’t mind the first time. And I don’t mind now.”

Hotch’s lips were gentle and far too light. Reid pushed back after a moment even though it set off a fireworks of complaint from his ribs. Reid caught Hotch’s lower lip in his and tugged, then they parted and dipped back again, and again. Just a soft exploration broken up by warm breath and tiny, secret sounds. They drifted over each other, slotting together and then changing, as if unwilling to let this be just one thing. Hotch’s hand held Reid’s jaw firmly now, fingers circling into his scraggy beard and making Reid whimper. Hotch pulled up suddenly, breaking the kiss, worried, but Reid leaned after him with a grunt as his body complained. _Don’t leave again… don’t go away…_

Hotch watched him follow in surprise and then stopped so that they bumped noses. “Lean back,” he whispered, and Reid watched him as he did what he was told. Hotch leaned towards the pillows too, closing in until Reid relaxed into the mattress and Hotch’s lips closed over his again. This time he was more insistent, pushing into Reid until his lips parted with a gasp and then they both moaned quietly together. Reid raised his hand as far as he could manage and curled his grip into Hotch’s flannel shirt. It wasn’t what he’d intended but it would do. He’d hold onto him with every ounce of strength his broken body had. _Don’t go…_ They came apart in a shocked huff of air, but Hotch didn’t back off. He brushed their lips together lazily.

“No need to strain your injuries,” he muffled and then nipped Reid’s mouth.

“I’ll do whatever I have to,” he nipped back and smiled for the first time. The beeping was going haywire again - Reid was shocked that a nurse hadn’t intervened at this point.

Then Hotch did pull away, only stopping when his motion tugged Reid’s arm and he wouldn’t let go. The scowl was back as well as the exhaustion, and Reid’s happiness popped before he could enjoy it. _Don’t go_ , his soul growled.

“You’re not coming back… are you?” Reid murmured as his stomach clenched. Hotch shook his head once, no. “Aaron, _why?_ This is killing you. You hate it.”

“Lucifer is still free. He needs to be contained. You’ve seen what he’s capable of, and now that he’s had you… well, nothing is more important,” Hotch sighed. “And then there’s the child.”

“What child?” Reid was almost afraid to find out.

“Lucifer impregnated a human woman. She didn’t know who he was at the time, but when she found out she ran from both him and the hunters trying to help her. Regardless of how she feels about him, she is protecting that baby. We have to find her. It hasn’t happened in millennia but those old enough to recall it assure us that a Nephilim is pretty bad news.”

Reid shook his head and then regretted it when his chest spasmed in pain. He hissed and Hotch leaned closer as if he could ease it with his nearness.

“Prentiss was here four days ago,” he continued, trying to get through it before Reid could object. “She’s cleared up my problems with the Marshal Service. Jack and Jessica will remain in custody until Scratch is caught, but I’m on my own. She was smart enough not to ask me any questions, but when she saw the state you were in I thought she was going to shoot me right here in this room.”

“She told me not to get injured,” Reid mumbled absently.

Hotch smirked. “Good to know that you’re terrible at following everyone’s directives, not just mine.”

Reid refused to be distracted. “If you’re not coming back, then I’ll come with you.”

Hotch’s expression darkened. “Absolutely not.”

“I wasn’t asking permission,” Reid wheezed.

“It’s not going to happen, Reid. And you’re in no condition to argue.”

“Well, obviously. But once I heal-”

“NO!” Hotch’s voice vibrated down Reid’s arm and into him, then Hotch seemed to regret it and covered Reid’s fingers in his shirt with his own. “You know nothing about any of this, Spencer-”

“Then teach me,” Reid snapped. “I’m a quick study.”

“Lucifer has _seen you_ ,” Hotch’s voice rose. “You expelled him and I don’t know how you did it. Only Sam has ever managed that and he’s… well, special. Lucifer will not forget about you - he does not leave survivors.”

“I said a prayer.”

“Pardon?”

“That’s how I got him out. You and the Winchesters were chanting something Sumerian and it pulled at him, but it wasn’t enough. Then I thought - what if I _pushed_ as well? I remembered a Sumerian blessing - to protect one’s hearth from evil and misfortune…”

“You… you expelled the Devil with… _a house blessing?_ ”

Reid shrugged and then winced. _Dammit…_ “It was worth a try.”

“Badass,” Hotch mumbled approvingly. “But that doesn’t mean you’re coming with me. You’re not fireproof, Spencer, and hunting is far more dangerous than the BAU. It’s physical and deadly every single time, and there’s no back-up. It would break me if it took you…”

“Aaron,” Reid closed his eyes and nearly yelled, ribs be damned. “Do not leave me behind again. Please.”

He opened his eyes and saw Hotch staring back at him, speechless. He seized the opportunity and tried to make it as devastating as it felt inside of him.

“I’m an addict, Aaron. Whether it’s drugs or something that fascinates me, I get hooked and I can’t let go. It’s who I am.” He sighed and then pushed on. “I’m fascinated by you, and I… love that fascination. I have a passion for it. I cannot let it go: this is me. And if you meant everything you’ve said here… if you meant everything that kiss implied, I _can’t_ let you go. Please don’t ask me to.”

Hotch continued staring and the beeping of the stupid machines told Reid that panic was about to fill their silence with words and backpedaling.

“But if you didn’t mean it that way… i-if you really can’t stomach the idea of me helping… then you have to walk away. Now. Walk out and never contact me again. Disappear for real this time. Be a ghost, be dead to me-”

“I don’t want to be dead to you,” Hotch whispered, his eyes now wide in panic of his own. “I want to be _alive_ with you. But… hunting only ends one way. I don’t want you to be one of the hundreds I’ve lost.”

“Then show me how to protect myself,” Reid said urgently. “You taught me to shoot, to defend myself, to profile… you can teach me to do this. And then you won’t have to face any of this alone anymore - we’ll have each other’s back, just like always.”

Hotch’s expression crumbled, and Reid raised his other hand with a hiss to clasp over his fingers. “You were right: I can’t un-know this now. So put me to work. Let me help.”

Hotch’s mouth crashed into his, knocking him back into the bed with a grunt. He mumbled ‘sorry’ into the kiss but then slipped against him, hot and frantic, the fingers of his free hand tangling in Reid’s hair. When he broke away, they both gulped hard to catch up. Reid’s chest ached but he ignored it, focusing instead on the pressure of Hotch’s forehead leaning into his.

“You are psychotically manipulative, you know that?” Hotch gasped and Reid just smiled. “This is quickly becoming co-dependant. We’ll be the Winchesters in no time at all.”

“Incestuous insult aside, is that a ‘yes’?”

“Yes,” Hotch kissed him again. “But on one condition: until you’re sufficiently trained, you stay with the Bureau.”

Reid was about to object.

“Spence, it’s non-negotiable. Besides, you can still be of use there. To my knowledge, I was the only hunter who was also a legitimate FBI agent. It gave me access, resources that other hunters didn’t have. Sometimes it even saved lives. You can still do that for us - you can be our inside man.”

“But you promised-”

“I did and I will teach you everything I know. Be patient, Spencer. It’ll take some time but not as long as you think.”

“It took me eight months to learn how to shoot to your standards,” Reid grumbled into Hotch’s beard.

“It did,” he chuckled. “But that was then, and you’re not a kid anymore.”

Hotch’s lips caught Reid’s again and pulled him in. He moaned gently and it sounded sorrowful. Hotch pulled back in concern.

“We’ll… we’ll be apart a lot. Until I’m ready,” Reid murmured and ducked his eyes away. _Too needy._ “Won’t we?”

“Some,” Hotch said after a moment, and then Reid felt the fingers in his hair tighten and guide his gaze back up. “But I’ll come back often. I have a vested interest in doing so now.”

Hotch’s eyes darkened and Reid felt the promise of something dangerous and addictive there waiting for him. He wondered if that was what being possessed looked like, and then he shoved the thought aside and gave himself up to whatever was behind Hotch’s eyes.

“You’re manipulative too,” Reid kissed into him, and Hotch kissed back even harder.

“First, we get you well,” he huffed when they finally came up for air, his pupils wide and a flush coloring him to the tips of his ears. “And then, we go to work.”

\----

Hotch: Are you in D.C?  
Reid: Yes ???  
Hotch: I’ve broken into your apartment. Making you dinner. Don’t shoot me when you come home.  
Reid: *eyeroll*  
Reid: What happened to your key?  
Hotch: I have it but felt the need to practice my B&E skills. Professional learning, so to speak.  
Reid: You’re incorrigible. Ever since you stopped being law enforcement, you’ve swung too far in the opposite direction.  
Hotch: Some would say I’m charming  
Reid: Yes, well… that too  
Hotch: Brought a new pile of books from Sam. It’s the last of the basic reading. Everything else is arcane and pretty specific. He says to keep them as long as you need.  
Reid: How many books?  
Hotch: 46  
Reid: Pfft. Be done with that in a few days.  
Hotch: That’s what I told him. He still doesn’t believe me.  
Reid: How’s Dean?  
Hotch: Still reticent to let you visit them. He’s a stubborn man, but a good one. I’m working on it.  
Hotch: He also mentioned that he already has a know-it-all brother to deal with & he doesn’t need ‘a dictionary with eyes’ to worry about too. He’s concerned about your physicality. Obviously.  
Reid: And what did you say?  
Hotch: I said the dictionary kisses like a maniac. I’ll take my chances ;)  
Reid: *2nd eyeroll* You’re not doing me any favors with these guys…  
Reid: And also, thank you *blushing emoji*  
Hotch: No problem. It was worth it to see Sam laugh so hard beer came out his nose.  
Reid: So, how long are you staying? If it’s a few days, you can take the books back with you.  
Hotch: But that would mean you’d be reading the whole time I was here  
Reid: I can multitask  
Hotch: But I wanted all of your focus  
Hotch: I mean, I wanted you to focus on one thing  
Hotch: It could be more than one thing. You’re a busy man.  
Hotch: And I’m not the one thing. I mean, I don’t have to be. It’s fine if I am, but no pressure.  
…  
Hotch: ok maybe I’m the one thing  
…  
Reid: Holy crap, that was just spectacular. Maybe my awkwardness really is contagious.  
Hotch: I’m so embarrassed  
Reid: You’re amazing. I can’t wait to get home tonight.  
Hotch: Really?  
Hotch: :)   
…  
Hotch: Where’s your paprika?  
Reid: I don’t have any  
Hotch: What is wrong with you? How can you not have paprika?  
Reid: Is it important for hunting?  
Hotch: No. It’s important for the Kickin’ Chicken.  
Reid: ???  
Hotch: I’m going out to get some & then break back into your apartment. For practice. I hope no one starts to suspect me.  
Reid: That some middle-aged lumberjack keeps burgling my apartment in order to cook random meals + make out with me? Nah. Who would buy that?  
Hotch: Hey! Who are you calling ‘middle-aged’?  
Reid: ;)  
…  
Reid: Are you gonna tell me about your latest case?  
Hotch: If you tell me about yours  
Reid: Deal. See you at 7.  
Reid: Don’t burn down the apartment and no snooping. Love you.  
…  
Hotch: Love you too, buddy.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Collateral Damage](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9440864) by [GhostInTheBAU](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostInTheBAU/pseuds/GhostInTheBAU)




End file.
